#but everything from her store just sits there for like at least a week before it moves

[surrenderonvinyl]

1989 tv vinyl shipped i cant wait for it to sit in ferndale michigan for a month

[sinsofsummers]

sensational; part iii

6.1k | joel miller x f!innocent!reader part one | part two

summary: joel continues teaching you everything you need to know about desire. warnings: smut smut smut, 18+, mdni. yearning, teasing, thigh-sitting, grinding, fingering, oral (m and f receiving), fingers in mouth, joel almost loses control, age gap (reader is 25, joel is 56). i think that's everything. suchhhh impaired(drunk) editing. i'm so osrry. note: here it is. about a week later than i had planned. but i turned 21. cut me some slack HAHAHHAHA i hope you enjoy this unintentional third part to sensational! note: special shoutout to @cavillscurls bc she not only requested that joel call reader "babygirl" at least once but also that there be some aftercare so....this one's all for u pretty girl i hope your day is an easy one <3 ty for being my very first friend on here wahhh

Joel was used to the chill in his bones. It had been there since his thirty-sixth birthday, and had hardly begun to slip away until he'd met that quiet girl with a fiery spirit like his daughter. Ellie had made the icy tension thaw, and then he met her, the woman who'd begun to melt his very insides.

Was it her curiosity that was so...endearing? Astute? An inevitable addition to his patrols with her? Or was it the fact that she'd begun to smile when she saw him, if only a tight-lipped grin that emitted a soft glow like a secret shared with whispers?

He wasn't quite sure he even wanted to know what it was that had him hardening at the sight of her. So instead of thinking about it—something he wasn't very good at, anyway—Joel returned to his current position in the present moment.

He was on horseback, his gloved hands tightened on the reins, and she was perched in front of him, her back pressed gingerly to his chest and her thighs warming the insides of his.

Joel's mind wandered to the morality of his intentions, as they usually did when she was this close to him. What's she want with you, old man? That voice loved to pester him all day long, but he shoved it away this time when he pretended to adjust his hands on the reins. The movement made his arms tense around her frame, and other than her head tilting back to nudge his chin, there was no response. He thanked the horse for its strong, rocking movements that kept her body tense and pressed into his.

This girl is gonna be the death of me, he mused. And what a painless death it would be.

—

Despite the fact that you were entirely okay with this turn of events, you couldn't ignore the instinctual worry that bit at your insides. When you'd shown up at the stables that morning, Joel had already arrived, leading his horse by the reins.

"C'mon, doll," he said in that rough morning voice that was so attractive. "You're ridin' with me today."

Your brows had furrowed, and you looked toward the stables. "What about—"

Joel had shaken his head and held out a gloved hand for you. "Your horse is no good today," he said (with a less-than-convincing note of sorrow in his voice, but why would he show emotion for once in his life?), clearing his throat before finishing, "just you, me, and this one today," with a nod to his horse.

"Is he gonna be okay?" you asked as you took his hand, the heavy weight of his grip returning to you as a comfort now. "What's wrong with him?" He led you forward, but you couldn't help glancing back once more as if you were a kid getting dragged away by her parents from a candy store.

He squeezed your hand and smiled softly at you. "Gimme your hands, sweet girl," he murmured.

You obeyed without a second thought and let him help you up, the winter wind whipped around your hair despite it being trapped in your usual knit hat. His hands tightened around your hips as he booted you up, and you mourned the moment they left your body. Of course, that sensation didn't last long; he clambered up and mounted right behind you.

Oh. You hadn't considered that this would be the solution to your horse being incapable of patrolling today. Maybe this won't be so bad, you thought, feeling your cheeks heat up despite the chill. You let out a shaky breath at the press of his chest against your back.

"My horse?" you asked once more, despite not quite caring anymore; his arms were now enveloping you as he began making his way to the edges of Jackson.

His sigh created a brief cloud of mist in the wintry air, and the vibrations of his voice rumbled through your body. "Broken leg," he explained quietly, and you felt more than heard his words.

You wanted nothing more than to let yourself sink into the feeling of being so close to him like this, with your hips nestled right in front of his pelvis (a fact that was bound to distract you soon enough), but you forced yourself to inquire a final time.

"A broken leg?" you said. You didn't mean for it to come off as disbelieving, but...your mount had been just fine the day before.

Joel shrugged and instead of answering, he leaned in closer to your ear, his chapped lips scratching against the soft skin near your neck; your eyes fluttered closed at the feeling. "Darlin'," he murmured, "don't you trust me?" One of his hands dropped the reins and curled around your middle, tugging you by the waist back into him. "I've got so much to teach you today."

The reminder that there was still more, that there was always more for Joel to teach you in the world of desire and sin...it was enough to have your mind going blank and your muscles relaxing at his touch. "Okay," you mumbled, not sure if he could even hear your answer.

His gloved hand moved up just a few inches before moving back to grab the reins, but you didn't miss the feeling (if only for a second) of his fingers brushing against the soft curve of your breasts.

You sighed gently and leaned back enough for your head to rest against his chest, your body full encased by his broad shoulders and burly arms. It was secure, it was safe, and the heady scent of leather and Joel nearly made your head spin. With all the possibilities of what he might want to teach you today, on patrol and so close to one another...you weren't sure you'd survive.

It was only a matter of time before your hands and mind completely lost their withering hold on social decorum.

—

Joel's composure was the first to slip, but you weren't far behind—of course, you'd never admit it to him. You'd made it about an hour outside of Jackson, your body rocking deliciously against his, and nothing but the wind to accompany your soft voices as you spoke.

"Those girls haven't bothered me anymore, you know," you said, turning your head to look over your shoulder at him. You nearly choked at the sight of him already looking down at you, his mustache twitching with his lips in a curious smirk. "Not sure what made them stop, though."

"S'good," he said, his jaw clicking before he continued. "But you're like an open book, doll," he said, eyes flitting back to his surroundings. "I'm sure they could see it on your face."

You huffed, cheeks warming again. "See what exactly?"

Joel reached down with a hand to run his fingers along your thigh, creeping closer to where a puddle of desire was growing between your legs. You leaned your head against his chest again and let out a wanton sigh, wishing his hands would creep closer to where you needed him most.

"That," he said, voice lilting with a satisfied arrogance. "It's that sweet face you make when you're wantin' somethin' from me."

"I don't have a face," you mumbled, your arms looping around his biceps and hanging on to them. It's terribly domestic, a voice murmured in your head, but you shoved it away. "What are you talking about?"

Joel leaned his head down to yours, his mouth in your hair. You felt him smile against your skin and he cooed, "Don't worry your pretty little head about that, babygirl." He moved his hand to your thigh once more and chuckled into your hair when you rolled your hips back into his. "Just let me make you feel good, sweetheart."

You wanted nothing more than to sink into his soft touches and whine his name until he brought you to the edges of ecstasy again, but the winter wind howled in your ears and reminded you that you couldn't afford to lose all composure. There was a very real reason you were on patrol; it would have been irresponsible to indulge in the sweet pleasure of Joel's touch.

And yet—you couldn't help it when you lifted your chin and pressed a swift kiss to his jaw, hoping beyond hope that it might prompt him to touch you, to kiss you, to do anything to relieve the familiar ache that was growing. It was all you could do not to begin begging right then and there.

So when he suggested that the two of you take a pit stop at one of the old abandoned cabins along your route, you nodded feverishly. It's not irresponsible if we're taking proper precautions, you convinced yourself.

"C'mon, dollface," he murmured, pulling the reins to a halt in front of a dilapidated shack in the wintry landscape. "Can't hardly focus with you rubbin' up against me like that."

The breathless chuckle that you let out sounded nothing like yourself; you were giddy with the impending pleasure that was about to come from Joel's lips, his fingers, anything that he might deem useful in bringing you another crumbling orgasm.

You practically fell off the horse into his arms with your tingling excitement, and Joel chuckled as your chest collided with his. “So eager, darlin’,” he mused, adjusting your knit hat where it had fallen below your eyes. “Makin’ me feel so special with that sweet face,” he said, his large hand snaking around your back to support you as the two of you traipsed through the snow to the cabin. 

It was only a little alarming that his hands on your body were so familiar after just a few of his “lessons,” but you chose to ignore it and sink into the weight of his warm hands perforating your coat. “Joel,” you breathed, and you didn’t mean for it to sound so desperate, but you couldn’t help it. 

Joel pushed open the door to the cabin—it took a few tries; it was frozen shut—and tied up his mount. “C’mere,” he whispered as soon as the door was shut behind you. His lips were on yours before you could suck in a breath of anticipation, and oh, how you loved the scrape of his chapped lips against your skin when he moved to press kisses to the line of your jaw. 

“Been thinkin’ of you, dollface,” he mumbled when he pulled back, his breath fanning over your face. “Been thinkin’ of you a lot.”

You blinked up at him, your lips already wet and wanting for more of his attention. With that dark look in his eyes, he looked as if he might devour you without a moment’s notice. Despite your ever-present reticence toward the things that Joel had taught you so far, you couldn’t ignore the way that your mouth had dried, mind empty of all words.

“Yeah?” you managed, swallowing roughly. In pure humiliation, you leaned forward to hide your face in his chest, inhaling that comforting scent of leather—it both cleared and muddled your head. 

He let out a rumbling chuckle, a looser laugh than you’d ever heard from him, and he placed his gloved hands on the sides of your face to tilt your head back up to him. “Yeah,” he said gently, dropping a kiss to your forehead. “Probably a little too much, considering I can hardly get through the night without gettin’ a hard-on.”

Your cheeks warmed as you blushed, and you instinctively tried to duck your head once more. Of course, Joel wouldn’t let you; he quickly rid his hands of his gloves and returned them to your cheeks, the chill of his fingertips contrasting with the heat of your cheeks. “You gonna kiss me again?” you asked, your voice small in its pleading. “Please?” you added, the syllable even quieter than the last.

“Fuck’s sake,” Joel murmured, and you weren’t sure if it was to you or to himself. He pulled you closer, and you could feel the hard outline of his cock against your hip. “Gonna kill me, dollface,” he groaned before he captured your lips in another bruising kiss, one that had your legs buckling. He kept you upright, with his hands wrapped tightly around your back.

His tongue swept across your bottom lip and you opened your mouth into his kiss, hardly able to believe how natural it felt to kiss him now. A strangled moan left your mouth and he swallowed it into his own, drinking it like a sweet nectar from the gods. His hands came up to feverishly rid you of your winter coat and you eagerly assisted him, clawing at his layers right after. 

“Teach me,” you begged, pulling away to catch your breath. Your eyes didn’t even open; you were too blissed out to care what you looked like or what he looked like in front of you. “Teach me,” the words came out again, and your bottom lip quivered as if you might shed tears. Your thighs clenched together subconsciously, doing virtually nothing to assist in the pressure that was growing. 

Joel hummed and his thumb carefully swept a caressing touch under your eyes, as if catching any tears that might actually fall. “No need to beg anymore, babygirl,” he cooed, “I’ll teach you everything you want to know.” He tugged your hat from your head and smoothed over your undoubtedly knotted mess of locks. The corners of his eyes crinkled as he flashed a smirk at you. 

“Promise?” you said, again in that small voice that had you almost kicking yourself. You were supposed to be an adult, mature enough to handle all of this. And you are, the voice in your head spoke harshly, you are.

Joel just nodded and tilted his head back, gesturing for you to follow him further into the cabin. “Stand there for me, doll,” he said, leading you into what must have been the living room some twenty years ago. A couch that looked like it might collapse in on itself sat against the wall, the only piece of furniture in the room. 

You stood where he placed you, but his hands dropped from your body when he went to sit down on the couch. With one arm moving to lay across the back of the couch and his jean-clad legs spreading in the way that made you want to kneel in between them, Joel beckoned for you with his other hand. “Now c’mere,” he ushered, and you couldn’t move fast enough. 

Your hands reached out to grab for him, to take off his coat and his shirt and let him lay bare before you like he had in your bed, but he shook his head. “Don’t worry ‘bout me, sweetheart,” he reassured you, “remember?”

You knew this; both times before this Joel had made it clear that you needn’t worry about getting him off. You were supposed to sit back and let him show you how to feel good, but you weren’t sure how much longer you’d be able to obey his request. You wanted nothing more than to sit on his lap like he’d had you the first time, and you wanted to rub yourself against his cock so you could see how he looked when he was lost in the throes of his desire. 

“Babydoll,” he nudged you gently with his voice, and you blinked. “Hear me?”

Swallowing hoarsely, you shook your head. “Mm?” you hummed in response.

Joel’s lips curled up in a soft smirk. ��Already distracted,” he mused to himself. A hand dropped to his thigh, and your eyes latched onto it. You had the sudden urge to take those fingers into your mouth, to feel the strength of his fingertips on your tongue—the fact that those same digits had been shining with your release (more than once) had your legs wobbling once more. 

“You’re gonna stand there,” he said, adjusting himself on the couch in a way that had your eyes glued to the growing tent in his jeans, “and I’m gonna watch while you make yourself come.”

You blanched, and the spot between your legs pulsed at the idea. “What?” You couldn’t help the slight disappointment at the realization that this meant he wouldn’t be touching you.

“You heard me.”

“But…” your hands flexed, needing to hold onto something. Your desperation for release was almost enough to have you sinking to the floor. “But…I don’t know how—”

Joel nodded, “You do. I’ve shown you, remember?” His fingers tapped a few times on his thigh, and his eyes slipped to drag along your body as you stood just a few feet from him. “And you know I can’t always be there when you need to come, babydoll,” he hummed. “I need you to show me you’ve learned.”

“But—”

“Show me,” he said, his voice firm despite the gentleness in his face. He palmed his cock through his pants and bucked his hips up. “C’mon, baby. Be good for me, I’ll make it worth it.”

Despite his instructions, you shuffled forward, arms out and reaching for him. You paused in between his legs, feeling the heat from his legs radiating toward you. 

But Joel only shook his head with an amused smirk. “No, no, doll,” he murmured. “I’ll come just as quick even if I’m just watchin’ you. I need you to show me what you’ve learned,” he repeated his previous instruction. “Touch yourself, sweet girl. Lemme see how you make yourself feel good.”

You didn’t move, unsure of how to begin—as it was now clear that he wouldn’t let you touch him, nor would he be giving into your requests. Standing there in your sweater and jeans and winter boots, you felt foolish. 

“I know you know how to start, baby,” he encouraged you while moving his hand along his hard cock in his jeans. “Take those clothes off, pretty girl.”

With an instruction to follow, your hands began to move, ridding yourself of your sweater and pants, even your thick boots. Standing in just your worn bra, your cotton panties, and your thick wool socks, you looked shyly toward Joel. It felt somewhat humiliating to have his eyes so intently held on you, despite his face being the picture of approval. 

He moved his hand once more and then he was unzipping his jeans and reaching into his pants, letting his cock spring free. He let out a shuddering sigh at the sensation; you were sure there was a thick feeling of relief that washed over him at the removal of any tight restriction on his erection. “C’mon, baby,” he cooed, and your eyes widened as he licked a wide stripe on his palm, returning his hand to his cock to give it a languid stroke. “I know you can do it.”

You gingerly dropped a hand to your waist, fiddling with the worn out elastic band of your panties. In front of you Joel let out a soft sigh, his eyebrows furrowing and his dark eyes growing even darker at the sight of your hand getting closer to your mound, where there was certainly a puddle growing. 

“Lemme feel it, baby,” he said gruffly, beckoning for you to step closer. “I know I said I wouldn’t touch, but holy fuck, dollface…I’ve never needed to feel something so bad in my life.”

You practically fell over your own two feet as you obeyed his request, stepping into the space between his legs. His cock was right there, and you wanted to put your tongue on the tip, to feel that bead of leaking seed that was sliding down the angry red head of his cock. “Joel—”

His only answer was with his two fingers pressing a featherlight touch to your bud, drawing a quick moan from your lips, your eyes closing and your hips rolling into the feeling.

“So fuckin’ wet, baby, I knew it,” Joel murmured, sitting forward and pressing a kiss to your stomach. “You’re always so wet for me, huh?”

You wanted to roll your eyes. Of course you were; he knew this well enough now. But something about the fact that he kept asking…it only made you want him more. 

“Joel, please,” you begged, rolling your hips into his hand again and moaning desperately at the press of his hand against your bud. “I need you to—”

He pulled his hand away and sat back again. “Not yet, dollface,” he reminded you, returning his hand to his cock. “You haven’t even touched yourself, darlin’,” he teased, his tone a mocking coo. 

You let out another strangled whine, but shoved your hand into the waistband of your panties. “Fine,” you sighed, “but it won’t work.” As much as you wanted to come, you were reminded all too well of the last time he asked you to do this. You couldn’t obey his request, and he’d had to make you come all the same. So why would he make you go through the motions again?

Your finger caught on your clit and you inhaled sharply, eyes closing at the addictive sensation. You let your other hand slide up to your chest, instinctively massaging your own breast in the same way that Joel did—at least, as close of a replication as you could make. 

“That’s it, sweet thing,” he said in that southern drawl that had you perpetually weak in the knees. “Lookin’ so good like that, sweetheart, good girl,” he drew out the last two syllables, his teeth audibly gritting as he stroked his cock faster. 

You wanted to continue, wanted to hold onto the feeling of making him proud, but you didn’t know what to do. “Joel,” you begged, “I…” you trailed off.

Both of his hands came to your waist and you opened your eyes at one squeeze of your hips. “C’mere,” he groaned. “Just sit next to me, doll.” He helped you sit next to him, your head resting on the arm of the couch. Your knees came up to your chest, and he looped his thumbs into your panties, ridding you of them in a quick movement. 

Your head was spinning with the hopes that he might give in, that he might not make this foolish game go on for much longer. It had only been a minute or two, but you never wanted to make yourself come if Joel was always going to be so willing. “Joel—”

“Spread those pretty legs for me, baby,” he whispered, his big hands on your knees. When you couldn’t move your legs on your own, he gently nudged them apart, his eyes darting down to your dripping mound. “Fuck,” he hissed, his hand hovering over your folds, “even more appetising than I remember.”

The implication made your head reel. Surely he wouldn’t… 

But your thoughts were interrupted when he sat back at the other end of the couch, his cock sitting at the ready as he dragged his hand over it again. “I’m good at waiting, though,” he murmured to himself. “C’mon, princess,” he sighed, “just like we practiced. Hand on that pretty pussy, baby.”

The whine that left your throat was downright pornographic as you obeyed, the sound of his instructions shooting bullets of pleasure down your spine and straight to that sensitive bud at the crevice of your thighs. 

Just like we practiced, he’d said. You had no desire to disappoint him; you wanted to prove to him that you could do this, you wanted to see that look of flushed pride on his face when he came again. When you’d make yourself come. 

Your fingers slipped around your dripping cunt, still clumsy and untrained despite knowing just how Joel would make you come undone with his touch. You tried your best to replicate it, gliding your fingers in tight circles around your bud, or drawing long stripes in between your folds, but it just made you more frustrated. “Joel,” you whined again, “please.”

You didn’t have to look at him to know he was grinning. “You’re doing it, baby. Look at you, rubbin’ that pretty clit for all it’s worth.” His words were bruisingly confident, but his tone was shaky and the only evidence that he was dangerously close to coming before you. 

“Joel, I—” you circled your clit once more— “I need you to—”

“I know, baby, I know,” he cooed, and you felt him shift closer to you—just a centimeter. 

You pulled your own hand away from your clit, despite your body begging for more, and you looked for a moment at the shine on your fingers. “Joel,” you repeated, “I…I want you to tell me what to do.” 

He was silent for a moment. Then, “That so?” His movements had stopped. 

You nodded, and couldn’t help the desperation in your voice. “Yes.” Somehow your legs dropped open even wider, exposing yourself to him further. “Tell me what to do. Tell me what you want me to do.” You swallowed the lump in your throat as you gave yourself entirely to him. “I’ll do it.”

Joel had turned his chest to face you, and he ran a hand over his face. “I’ve never met anyone quite like you, ya know?” he said, and you thought it was a minor jab at your eagerness until he dropped his hand back to his lap and you saw that blissed-out smile that you were learning to ache for. “‘Course I’ll tell you what to do. If that’s what you want,” he answered, and you almost came at the sound of his voice. 

He shifted so his body was facing you; the sight of him with his shirt buttoned, his pants still on, but the zipper undone and his cock bobbing heavily as he moved…it was enough to have you rolling your eyes back. Joel Miller was sensational. The essence of sin and seduction, and you only wanted more.

“Lift this leg for me, baby,” he murmured as he lowered his chest to the couch. You let him move your ankle to rest on his shoulder, then the other ankle to match. “That’s it,” he cooed, “you’re such a quick learner, babydoll.”

You blushed at the nickname, and when he sank to his elbows with his eyes on your pussy, your eyes widened. “Joel—”

You’d heard of this type of pleasure, but you’d never thought it was something men actually did. When he looked up at you with that hungry look in his eye, his tongue darting out to wet his lips like one might do before eating an especially good meal, you realized another thing. 

You’d never thought this could be something that men actually enjoyed.

“You want instruction, babygirl?” he hummed, pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh and chuckling when you shivered. “I’ll give you instruction. Lay back and let me take care of you. You’re always so good at that, yeah?”

He didn’t give you the chance to answer before he was dipping his head down to your most sacred spot, where you needed him most. His hands wrapped around your thighs, holding them against his ears as if they were keeping him warm in the cold temperatures outside. With one stripe from your weeping entrance to your quivering bud, Joel nearly made you come on the spot.

“Joel, I’m gonna—” 

He pulled back and smiled wickedly. “Already, baby? We’ve only just started,” he drawled, turning his head to kiss the inside of your other thigh. “Hold on to it for me, yeah? Gotta practice holding it for me, okay?”

You were too far gone to even grace his question with a response. All you could manage was a stuttering moan as you threw your head back and bucked your hips into his face, chasing your release.

Joel held your hips down with a light chuckle. “Wait, princess,” he grinned, pressing a kiss to your clit before continuing, “you don’t wanna fail your lesson, do ya?”

The implication that something might happen—or decidedly not happen—if you were to come before he let you only spurred you on. “Joel, please—”

“Just a little longer, please, baby,” he said, his voice a gentle moan. His tongue grazed your clit once more and he closed his lips over your bud, suckling just lightly enough to bring you closer and closer to the edge. 

It was then that you opened your eyes and looked at him; you wanted to see what he looked like with his mouth on your most sensitive spot if you were going to come. Your eyes caught on his hips, laid out on the couch further away from you. You blinked.

Joel was rutting into the couch. His hips were seemingly moving of their own accord, a smooth movement that was covered in sin and desperation. You thought about the fact that the curve of his hips would probably look like that if he were pressing his cock into you, and that was it. 

Your voice broke over the sound of your whines, and paired with his fingers coming up to press into your entrance, you were done for. You came hard over his fingers, your moans so loud that you thought someone would hear you all the way back in Jackson. “JoelJoelJoelJoel,” you cried, feeling the familiar rise of emotions in your throat. 

Joel pulled his head from your pussy and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Just couldn’t help yourself, huh?” he smirked. 

“I’m sorry,” you said softly, although you weren’t sure you had the capacity to even be sorry just now; the sight of him getting off at the taste of you was enough to keep your mind busy for the next week. “I didn’t mean to—”

“S’okay, dollface,” he chuckled, “I forgive you. That pussy tastes too sweet to be mad about you comin’ all over my damn face.”

Your thighs lay open for another moment, and Joel absentmindedly put his hand over your clit to rub another gentle circle to your sensitive bud. He hummed when your hips bucked at the overstimulation before pulling his hand away. 

Your eyes dropped to his cock, sitting rock hard and definitely not spent. You reached out with your hand again, sitting up. The effects of your orgasm were still heavy on your mind, but in a wordless movement you sank to your knees before him. “You didn’t come,” you said, more of a question than a statement. 

He shook his head. “Don’t matter,” he said, patting a hand on your head. “That was just for you, doll.”

You frowned. “But—” you dipped your head down, aiming your mouth at his tip despite not knowing what to do beyond that. All you knew was that this was something he needed. The tip of his cock was leaking profusely now, and you wanted nothing more than to make him feel as good as he’d made you feel. 

“We haven’t practiced that one yet, pretty girl,” he said softly, and lifted your head from where it was aiming. “Trust me, doll, I want it just as bad as you want to give it to me.” He traced his thumb along the line of your nose, a habit that he’d been starting to pick up. “But we’ll do it when you’re ready.”

“Then I wanna practice,” you insisted, your knees digging into the cold wooden floor. You didn’t want to think about how you looked, your face showing the remnants of your orgasm and your entrance starting to drip once more at the thought of pleasing him. “Let me practice,” you repeated. 

He smiled ruefully. “Got nothin’ to practice on, sweet thing,” he said softly. “We’ll practice another day.”

You took his hand wordlessly, not sure where this bout of confidence was coming from. It was like you were drunk on the thought of making him come. He let you hold his hand in yours, and with one look up at him, holding his eyes in your gaze, you opened your mouth to slide three of his fingers onto your tongue. He tasted like salt and the sweet release of your own body. 

Joel jerked in your grip, his cock bobbing toward you and his hand nearly shoving itself all the way down your throat. “Holy fuck, doll,” he groaned, his eyes fluttering closed. “S’enough to make a man leave his wife.”

You chuckled, knowing he was spewing nonsense from his lips now, but you pressed his fingers further down your throat, only stopping when they brushed the back of your throat, causing you to gag. 

“That’s okay, babygirl,” he said with another affectionate pat on your head. “You’re doin’ so good. Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

“Thought I was doing well,” you said sheepishly when he pulled his fingers from your mouth. A string of spit connected his fingers to your lips.

He nodded and leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. “You are, dollface,” he said. “You are. Maybe it’s me who needs a second to regroup.”

You knew it wasn’t true; his angry red tip was more than enough of a conflicting response to his words. But you let him pick you up from the floor and cradle you in his arms over his lap, rubbing his hands in circles over your body. “You’ll let me make you feel good, though?” you asked softly. 

Joel smiled. “‘Course,” he reassured you with a kiss on the cheek. “Next time,” he promised. 

It was enough. You nodded and rested your head in the crook of his neck, feeling the gentle curtain of sleep cover you. “M’tired,” you whispered, every inhibition gone. This man had seen and touched every part of you; there was no point in being shy.

“I know, baby, I know,” he said, and when his face wasn’t in between your legs, it was an awfully domestic phrase. “Just lemme hold your for a second. Then we’ll go back home.”

—

You didn’t know how you’d managed to get back on the horse, your clit sensitive and your whines hoarse with the constant friction as you rode back to Jackson. Your head had leaned back against Joel’s chest and he rested his chin against the top of your head, a constant warm presence as you rose from your post-orgasm haze. 

A happy accident, a faraway voice mused in your head. One horse with Joel on patrol? A dream. 

That is, until Tommy came out of the stables as you two approached. 

“Why’d you leave her horse here?” he called out, and you felt Joel tense behind you. “You forget how to ride a damn horse, darlin’?” Tommy said to you with that same southern drawl that his older brother shared in his voice. 

You blushed as Joel helped you down from his mount, and you hid your uncontrollable laughter behind your hand when he shared some tense words with his brother. 

“Fuck off,” Joel finished, but by the look of his wide eyes and red cheeks, you knew it held no malice. He was embarrassed. He’d faked your horse’s injury so he could hold you close. The realization made your head whirl. 

You walked off from the stables when the horse was returned to his stall, and you giggled when you heard Joel hurry to catch up with you. 

He looked around for a moment, as if checking to see if anyone was nearby, and then he delivered a quick swat to your ass, making you nearly trip in the snow. “S’not nice to laugh at an old man,” he said with a straight face, all business. But you could see the uncharacteristic rosiness in his cheeks, betraying his continued humiliation. 

You weren’t sure where the confidence in your voice came from, but you sighed with a, “Yeah,” before nudging him with your elbow. “Can’t help it when it’s your own brother, Joel.”

He shook his head and your arm tingled when he reached out with his gloved hand to clasp onto yours. “What am I gonna do with you, dollface, huh?” he mumbled, and you weren’t quite sure if you were meant to hear it until he looked down at you with a gentle smirk and a raised brow. 

You shrugged, your own cheeks heating up at the implications of what you were about to say. “I’m sure you’ll figure something out. Make another lesson out of it, I suppose.”

Joel just stared at you, a smug expression on his face. He tore his eyes from yours and played the part of nonchalance when he responded smoothly, mirth twinkling in those brown eyes you’d grown so attached to. “Maybe I will.”

this is so sinful i'm so tipsy rn i hope you liked it!!!! tysm for reading i love u all <3

tags (i'm so sorry it wouldn't let me tag everyone!!! i'll do the rest of my tags in the morning!!!): @morning-star-joy @thetriumphantpanda @cupofjoel @tightjeansjavi @dinsdjrn @mingiast @darkroastjoel @huffle-punk @jupiter-soups @elegantduckturtle @evyiione @bitchwitch1981 @disassociation-daydreams @mrsquill @littlemisssluttyknee @papipascalispunk @mumma-moonchild @buckbarnesdollsposts @kamcrazy123 @djarins-wife @lovelyladiess @impossiblebluebirdchaos @salsdemise @daddy-din @chaotic-mystery @laughcryreadsmutrepeat @prose-before-hoes-blog @morgaussy @thepriceofdevotion @chateausophie @livyjh @kittenlittle24 @ever-siince-new-york @julietamidala @3xclusive-y0ni @paanchusblog @okdeedee @scarletsloveletter @paleidiot @cleopatra99 @samuncenxsored @yourfavoriteredheadbitch-blog @brie-annwyl @spxctorsslxt @pattwtf @meijasworldasf @easaud @yuk-for-president @withrice-ontoast @ssssc0m @nini123 @bookishofalder @projectionistwrites @leeeesahhh

[toovaeloe]

bus stop 𝝑𝝔 “If I was your boyfriend, you sure as hell wouldn’t be waiting at a bus stop.”

suguru geto x genderneutral reader

no curse au

You’ve used the “I have a boyfriend” excuse and you may have just manifested one. Or a gorgeous man, at the very least

☁️🚏☁️

This was the worst, you think. Had to be punishment for something you did in a past life.

For starters, you were late for work. Was it your fault for staying up so late, giggling and doom-scrolling through mounds of mind numbing media? Yeah, maybe…

Let’s blame it on the weather. Your alarm didn’t wake you up after you silenced it. The neighbor’s dog wouldn’t stop barking through the night. But it’s not like you could tell your boss any off that.

So that’s why you raced out the door, haphazardly juggling your belongings in your arms. Wallet. Keys. Phone. Something else you couldn’t quite remember at the moment. Did you have everything? Probably; no time to check now. Only to find when you stomped on the brake and turned the key in the ignition…your car wouldn’t start.

Sputter…sputter…and then nothing.

Great.

There’s your late-to-work-excuse.

Maybe you shouldn’t have ignored the “maintenance needed” symbols that have been lighting up your dash like they want their own holiday. To be fair, time and money just weren’t things that came in abundance.

In any case, as you were sitting in that local garage enduring the mechanic babbling on about vehicle expertise junk you just couldn’t begin to understand, zoning out and nodding every few minutes with a halfhearted “hmm,” so it at least looked like you were absorbing information…you made note to at least revisit the idea of changing your smoke alarm’s batteries before it decided to turn on you, too.

But that was last week.

7-9 business days.

That’s how long until your car would be up and running again. Apparently, according to the mechanic, you were lucky it was even that. Apparently. Which meant you needed some other means of transportation to and from work and such.

Lucky you had the local bus service, right?

WRONG.

They were always late, but you still felt the need to get to the stops on time, lest you have a repeat of 5 days ago. (You showed up only 2 minutes late and were left behind at the store. Had to wait for an hour for your friend to get off her shift and come pick you up.) You highly doubted it, but what with the way the world was shitting on you right now, it wasn’t out of the question. And the city’s money obviously wasn’t going towards public transportation— they could qualify as garbage trucks if they really needed them with how trashed they were. Mystery sticky patches on the seat, gum underneath. The inconsolable children whining their heads off. That was kind of cute at first, but now it made you want to throw yourself out the window. The whole thing was just the experience that you could expect from a free public transportation system.

And why was it so rainy this month??? Ugh.

But what could you do but make do with what you had? Complaining definitely wasn’t making your shoes any less waterlogged. Be grateful, or some shit like that.

That evening, however, as you were waiting twenty minutes past the time the bus was supposed to arrive at the stop after an exhausting work day…you were just so fed up with everything. With the puddle water soaking through your shoes, with the way you had to stand because the benches were damp…with this rando-guy who had walked up next to you that you were half sure kept looking at you. To say the least, it only served to annoy you in your already sour mood.

You were willing to just ignore it. Until he stepped closer.

“Hey I’m uh…I’m pretty sure I’ve seen you around.”

Oooohh boy.

“Yeah, yeah, it is you. I’ been taking the bus sometimes. Usually I’m riding my motorcycle but uh, not today.”

Did you ask?

“Thought I’d drop by.”

The public bus stop. (???)

“What’s yer name, toots?”

Yeah no. Go back to the 1950’s and maybe that’d work there. You’d rather lick the mystery sticky shit off the bus seat. You could pick up a date 10x better without opposable thumbs.

All of the above is what you would’ve liked to say. Alas, you were tired. You didn’t want trouble that would take more energy than it was worth. So before he could go any further, you just coined the foolproof line.

“I have a boyfriend.”

Lie. You didn’t, but it was the first thing that came to mind. And if that didn’t make him lose interest, then he must really be a pathetic asswipe.

Sadly, he was. In terms of getting the hint to shut up, the guy looked barely deterred; offended even, as he prattled on.

“Well why were you acting so into me then, huh?” You definitely didn’t. You don’t even know this dude.

“I wasn’t even going for you.” He definitely was.

“You’re—“ X, Y, and Z. Just because his game is trifling?? You felt a headache coming on. And maybe a bout of anxiety. People are crazy, and the last thing you wanted was for this needless situation to escalate into something dangerous.

The entire mess was occurring just as Suguru was making the commute to work on the same street. But he found himself slowing nearly to a stop when he caught sight of you.

How could a person look so exhausted; hair extra frizzy, floccose from the humid rain, clothes soaked, droplets of the downpour dribbling onto your cheeks and blinked away from your lashes…and still so breathtaking? Or perhaps that was part of your beauty in this moment. You looked every bit done with the day, but who knew when- if— he’d ever see you again? He’d be stupid, a fool to not at least try to strike up a conversation with you. He’d be…

…Probably like that idiot.

A sulky moue twisted at his expression as he witnessed the disgraceful way this loser was fumbling. Oh dear. His approach lacked so much grace, so much respect…it was really just distasteful. You didn’t deserve that. And frankly, he didn’t think he deserved to watch you be treated like that when he knew he could do so much better.

“Sorry to keep you waiting!”

A merry sounding tone directed your way had your head sharply whipping to the source. A tall dark haired man you’ve never seen before; layered in a gray colored quarter zip and dark slacks, you think. His approach was casual and relaxed, a subtly jovial yet inherently guileful grin tugging at his lips. He even waved to you like an old friend. His entire facade was so convincing you considered for a moment if you had known him from somewhere and simply forgotten.

No, you really wouldn’t have forgotten a face like that. Eyes like those. A presence so contrasting of itself and yet so cohesive in its own way, if you had to try and describe it. Just a damn beautiful man. With eyebrows that were beginning to crease on his forehead.

Ooh, you were staring.

More than that, he was giving you a pointed look that you didn’t notice while drooling over the poor guy. Unfortunately for you, slo-mo’s only happened in movies, and in reality you just looked like an ogling dork. But you didn’t have time to dwell on your embarrassment when he was quite obviously urging you to play along with this illusion he was creating.

And so you did.

“Oh- hi! No worries,” You insisted in an awkward attempt to adapt to this new charade.

“‘Hasn’t been that long,” though your reaction to his presence wasn’t as well-articulated, it was convincing enough.

The other dude looked to be at least somewhat suspicious, and might’ve spoken on it if wasn’t for Geto’s scrutinizing gaze and a simple raise of his brow.

“Can I help you?” And just for good measure, he’d wrap his arm around you, sliding his hand into your coat pocket as if he’s done it a million times before to pull you closer against him. Whatever glare this ravenette man was glowering down the length of his nose at this guy with must’ve been scarring, because he murmured some half-assed excuse before scampering away.

You idly wondered how’d he get wherever he was going without the bus.

Or maybe you’d have more time to think about it if your brain wasn’t short-circuiting, acutely aware of the unworldly attractive man’s hand resting just over your hip.

“Sorry,” Geto spoke after a few beats, languidly retracting his arm from your coat and back to his side. “You looked like you were about to burst a blood vessel entertaining him. I hope I didn’t overstep. Y’know, with your boyfriend and all.” He had to have overheard you earlier.

But the way he spoke made it sound as if he doubted that fact, glancing to either side of you as if to say That is nowhere in sight..? without being so overtly rude. Or maybe he just wasn’t all that apologetic.

“That-! Yeah,” You pepped with a nervous pitter of laughter, “yeah…it’s not a problem, thanks.”

Your hand gravitated to the zipper of your jacket, absentmindedly fiddling with it as you frantically thought up an at least half decent explanation. One that wouldn’t make you sound more clumsy than you already felt.

“He’s not real, so he won’t mind.”

Yeah, real smooth. What was that you said; about being able to pick up a date without opposable thumbs? You’d need at least ten pairs of hands.

But Suguru didn’t seem to mind. In fact, his grin widened into something toothy and almost boyish, his eyes crinkling at the corners in a way that added an innocent charm to his otherwise elegant features. He found it endearing.

“Perfect,” His response was coupled with a discreet chuckle.

“Don’t feel obligated,” He’d continue as he reached to the side of you. So close to brushing your shoulder, it made your breath hitch. Though truly he was reaching around you, sharply tearing a flier from the side of the bus stop and pulling a pen from one of his pockets. If you were paying more attention you’d have noticed the glint of impish amusement in his umber eyes that led one to believe that action was more deliberate than he let on.

Still, he’d make quick work of jotting down a phone number and the address of a nice restaurant he’s been meaning to try with Satoru— but plans change. “but I’d like to take you out. I was on my way over to ask you, anyhow.”

He offered the page to you; his handwriting as sumptuous and calligraphic as you would’ve expected his penmanship to be; in the margins of some tacky ad for a lawn mowing service. As you went to accept the paper, however, he rescinded it from reach. All whilst drawing closer so that his piercing dark amber eyes held your gaze with an unwavering intensity. The kind that made your stomach do flips and stole your breath away.

“And for the record,” He spoke quietly but poised; a conspiratorial whisper for only you, him, and the rain to witness. “if I was your boyfriend, you sure as hell wouldn’t be waiting at a bus stop.”

There wasn’t time to react; he was already slipping the page into your pocket, withdrawing to a comfortable proximity all the while waving you off and wishing you well with a kind smile, disappearing someplace else.

You didn’t even catch his name.

At least your bus was here.

a/n: I had something to say but I totally forgot 😭

OH but I did add an upcoming section to my masterlist so you can see my works in the works if you’d like! 🤍 always open to ideas too

Dear god I crave geto with that loose low bun that’s barely a bun kind of hairstyle. Ykwim???

ty for reading 🤍🤍🤍 love you have a lovely lovely day or night

edit: OMG THATS WHAT I WAS GONNA SAY. I kept accidentally writing bust stop instead of bus stop as I wrote this. So, sorry if you bust

☁️☁️☁️

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One TwentyFive

“What is that?” Eddie asks, leaning forward in his seat, trying to see where the noise is coming from.

“Oh, it’s an ambulance, probably.”

“Am-bu-lance,” Eddie sounds out carefully, “like on TV. Why?”

“Oh they’re...if someone is sick, or has an emergency, and they need to get the hospital really fast, you can call an ambulance on the phone and they come and save you.”

“Oh. People be okay?”

“Uhm. I don’t know, but I hope they’re okay.”

“I hope they’re okay,” Eddie repeats absently, then Eddie’s mouth pops open a little as he stares out of the window, “Stevie love?” he asks, pointing.

“Oh, that’s a florists, you want to go and look?” Steve figures that the weather is finally warm enough to display flowers outside again.

Steve pulls in when he can, and they walk the half block back to where the buckets of brightly colored flowers are in a neat line outside the store front; Steve has a dollar in change loose in his pocket, and he can see that the individual flowers start at a few cents, “here, you want to get something?”

Eddie takes the money, but then grips Steve’s arm, carefully he sounds out the, “help wan-ted,” sign displayed in the window, “work?” he asks quizzically.

“I-” and Steve really has run out of reasons to protest. Eddie never goes anywhere without Steve. The most he ever does is get to go to the grocery store and, sometimes, Hopper and Joyce’s places. Plus he sits in Family Video for some of Steve’s shifts and it just...Steve knows it isn’t fair. Eddie’s getting bored, Steve can tell. Eddie does more than his fair share of the housework now, simply because he gets left alone at home so much. His driving is getting way better, and he’s mastered a lot of kitchen skills and can produce some simple meals.

Steve can’t keep him caged up forever. Besides, Eddie probably wouldn’t even get the job, so there’s no harm in just asking, “okay. Lets try, at least.”

The little bell tinkles cheerily over the door as they go in, making Eddie smile up at it.

It smells almost sickly sweet inside the store, but there are a lot of flowers packed into the small space. And holy shit, Steve actually recognizes the girl behind the counter from school, “Chrissy?”

“Oh. Oh hey Steve,” she isn’t cold, but she’s not exactly warm either, “can I help?”

“I can help,” Eddie butts in, pointing at the sign in the window.

“Oh, well. Do you have any experience working in a florist?” She eyes Eddie not unkindly, but definitely a little bit dubiously.

Eddie looks at Steve, unsure, “no, he doesn’t. And English isn’t his first language, he’s over here learning so…”

“Oh. Right. Well I mean, it’s only a few hours a week on delivery days, or when there's something on...I just need an extra pair of hands.”

“Pair of hands,” Eddie holds his up to show her.

Chrissy laughs, and Steve can already tell she’s softening to Eddie, he really does seem to have that effect on people. And Steve figures...it’s just a few hours. He knows that Chrissy is good people, or at least, he’s pretty sure she’s nice; she was always kind at school. If Eddie’s going to start somewhere…Steve comes to a decision, “how about he comes and tries it one time, his English isn’t perfect yet, but honestly he picks stuff up really fast, you’ll only have to show him once.”

“Uhm...you know, okay, lets do a trial. I haven’t had any other interest any ways, just a couple hours at a time on random days is inconvenient for people I guess, but unpacking everything can get tricky if you also get customers, you know?”

Steve nods, he can see that, “sure.”

“Sure,” Eddie parrots.

“So…do you want to stay for a couple of hours now? I can show you the ropes.”

“It’s an expression, there’s no actual rope,” Steve tells Eddie before he even has a chance to be confused over that, “you want to try?”

Eddie nods, “I’ll try.”

Steve has to stop himself from taking a deep fortifying breath, because that would be weird, “okay, Eddie come and get your jacket from the car.”

“But-”

Steve shuffles Eddie out of the store before he can protest any further, smiling at Chrissy, even as she frowns at him.

Once safely inside the car, Steve checks, “okay, what’s your secret?”

“Must not tell about The Upside Down. Must not tell that I’m different. Keep hidden my not belly button and not nipples. Definitely keep my pants pulled up.”

“Okay, why?”

“People will...take me away. Lock me in tank, like Starcourt. I maybe get El in trouble.”

“And what’s our secret?”

“Not boyfriend. Good friend. People don’t like two boys...they think it wrong. But it not wrong.”

“Okay...okay. You’re sure about this?”

“I’ll try,” Eddie nods.

“Okay, so, I’ll come back around three?” Steve confirms, before leaving his phone number just in case.

And then he...leaves. He leaves Eddie with Chrissy Cunningham. Which is just...weird. Eddie. Alone, kind of, and out in public. And Steve...well. He holds it together pretty well, he thinks. Or at least, he tries too. It’s just...weird. And unexpected.

Going home to an empty house is even stranger, but realistically he can’t just sit in the car outside. As much as he would have rather done that, it is a bit weird and...well. Chrissy can’t exactly phone him if he’s not there to answer the phone.

Steve forces himself to be normal about this, even if on the inside he isn’t being at all normal. Not at all. Not even remotely. He spends two hours coming up with increasingly ridiculous and increasingly catastrophic scenarios that Eddie could be involved in, right this second.

By the time Steve can legitimately leave, he’s still going to be early, and the house is way cleaner and there’s a lasagna on the side, ready to go in the oven later.

Steve fully expects there to be ambulance, fire and police vehicles clustered around the florist. The army maybe. Navy seals. News crews with helicopters circling overhead. Steve has no idea, but he is incredibly relieved when there are none of those things.

He hops out of the beemer and heads in, only to find Chrissy behind the register, a customer just finishing up and paying, and in amongst the buckets of blooms, is Eddie, holding a broom. He looks up at the sign of the bell, smiling when he sees it’s Steve. He’s wearing a green apron with the store branding on the middle of the chest, “hello Stevie.”

Eddie finishes what he’s doing, carefully nudging a bucket into place with his toe and sweeping his little pile of leaves and dust to the doorway out to the back, where he gets it up with a little pan and brush. Steve holds the door for the customer, an older lady, and after she’s gone he asks, “how did that go?”

Eddie looks to Chrissy to answer, “yeah. Yeah he did really good, Eddie, you want to come back on Friday?” Eddie nods, “okay, go hang your apron where I showed you.”

Eddie disappears out the back, “really? All okay?” Steve checks.

“Yeah,” Chrissy smiles brightly, “I think he’s a good fit. Eddie says that you’re his ride, so Friday, midday would be ideal until… lets say three again?”

“Yeah. Yeah, no problem. I’m working a close so he can walk down to Family Video after.”

Before they leave, Chrissy pays Eddie seven dollars straight from the register, and Eddie holds it tight, like it’s precious cargo.

The second the car door closes Eddie is like an unleashed ball of energy, “Stevie? People in the moon?? The moon in the sky? People! In rock-ets!”

Steve snorts a laugh, “yeah, yeah that’s right. People have been to the moon. I think a dog and monkeys and stuff have been to space.”

“Space,” Eddie echoes, quietly astounded.

“We could get a book about it.”

“Yes. Book about it...that’s good.”

“Okay. I probably should have done this ages ago, but lets go get you a library card.”

Eddie stands next to Steve at the desk, and Steve has to nudge him to get him to shut his mouth. Eddie’s eyes are huge, and he stares around the room like he’s just found all the treasures of the world, hiding all along in Hawkins Public Library. “Right, sir,” says the very sensibly cardiganed and bespectacled lady from behind the desk, “there’s your identification back, and your library card. No more than six books at a time, and three weeks per book or you’ll incur a charge, okay?”

“Okay. Thank you,” Eddie says, taking his card and peering at where the lady has written his name out.

“Come on then, you want to get some books?”

It’s not long before they have an issue. Eddie’s first two slots are filled with books about NASA and space from the kids non fiction section. Three and four very quickly go to sciency looking books about animals that came from a shelf near the space bit, but then Eddie can’t seem to choose, overwhelmed with all the books.

“Okay...it’s not far to the library, just take those four, and then when you’ve read them, we can get more okay?”

Eddie frowns, mouth scrunching a little, but he agrees.

He watches carefully over the counter as the lady stamps the borrow date inside the covers, reminding Eddie of when they’re due back, “I’ll write on the calendar,” he tells her. Steve suppresses a smile.

Eddie gets into the car holding a bunch of flowers; he immediately presents them to Steve. They’re held together with a bit of twine, and they’re all varying shades of red and orange, “Chrissy says it’s too late to sell them. All open too long. Ger-be-ra.”

“I-oh. For me?”

“Yes.”

“I-thank you. No one’s ever got me flowers before.”

Eddie beams hugely, and then holds them for Steve while he’s driving, “practice later?”

“Yeah, want to go to the mall lot? You're really close, but you have to get this reversing thing down before you go on the road.”

Eddie nods, “I try.”

“I will try. I’ll try,” Steve reminds him gently; Eddie does know, he just forgets when he gets all excited.

“I’ll try.”

When they get home, Eddie stashes his crumpled dollar bills in a jar that he keeps on the top shelf of a kitchen cupboard.

“Here’s another one,” Steve calls. They’re just, well, saplings, Steve guesses. Glorified twigs with a couple of leaves on, but some of them come up as far as Steve’s knee. They only found one, at first, but the further they went, the easier it became to spot them. And then suddenly...Steve was finding them everywhere.

Eddie comes over to inspect it, clearly pleased, “small pear tree.”

“Yeah, how many does that make?”

“Twenty two,” Eddie says proudly.

Steve looks around, “we’re going to find loads aren’t we?”

Eddie nods, “tent now?”

Steve snorts a laugh, “you horn dog, but, yeah, sure, we can get that set back up, you done tree hunting?” Eddie nods again, “do you ever miss it?” Steve asks as they walk back through the trees and to the yard, “having a tail, I mean? Being in the pool?”

“No,” Eddie starts slow, “I don’t...think on tail? Very few time I remember.”

“Oh right,” Steve thinks for a second, about what El said, about Eddie living so much in the moment. It must still apply.

“Maybe...maybe little,” Eddie puts his finger and thumb close together, for little, “more good than The Upside Down, and found Stee,” Eddie grins.

“Yeah. Yeah you did.”

Eddie appears in the doorway of Family Video five minutes before Steve’s shift is due to finish. Steve is not at all surprised to note that Keith is not here yet. “Hello Stevie. Hello Robin.”

“Hey, Eddie,” they both chorus.

Eddie comes up to the counter, giving Steve the little bouquet of blue and white flowers he’s holding, “awwwwww,” Robin sinks to her elbows on the counter, “that’s so sweet. You two are sickening, really.”

Eddie frowns at her, so Steve tells him, “ignore her, I like them.”

Eddie nods, “I tell Chrissy you like them. She said,” Eddie looks around the store, clearly checking for people. He goes up on his toes to see over the shelves, “she definitely, definitely knows we not boyfriends. She promises. Also, she likes my en-gage-ment ring.”

Steve just stares at Eddie, blinking slowly as he processes that. Next to him, Robin Starts braying like a donkey. Eddie grins big, pleased with himself. “She said...she definitely knows that we’re not boyfriends?” Steve repeats slowly.

“Yeah. She say she definitely knows we’re not boyfriends. She promises, she said she definitely doesn’t like girls, too.” Eddie speaks in that slow, sure way he does when he’s repeating something exactly.

“Right.” Steve says, “right. Okay. Did she say anything...else?”

“She think you are a prick, before.” Robin had just about regained her composure, only to completely loose it again, folding to the ground, crying with laughter, “but now she say you’re nice,” Eddie frowns, looking at the ceiling for a second as he concentrates, “Chrissy...think you have good taste in not boyfriends.”

“Oh.” Steve sighs, “okay. At least there’s that.”

“I can’t believe Chrissy Cunnigham likes girls,” Robin sighs from somewhere down on the floor.

“No,” Eddie corrects, “she doesn’t. She said she doesn’t.”

Steve can, vaguely, feel a headache forming, “no. Eddie she says she doesn’t like girls. The way that you don’t like guys.”

“But I don’t like guys, I like Stevie- ooooohhhhh,” Eddie’s face dawns with understanding, “secret lie?”

“Secret lie,” Steve confirms.

“Do you think she’s single?” Robin asks weakly from behind the counter.

“Single?” Eddie asks.

“Does she have a girlfriend? Is she with someone, like we are?”

Eddie shakes his head, “no girlfriend. Chrissy says that she a bit sad...but better than Tommy. Steaming turd.”

Robin cackles.

“Stevie, what is ‘steaming turd’?”

Steve rubs his forehead, breathing deeply though his nose.

From the floor Robin asks, “I wonder if she still has the cheerleader outfit?”

“Eddie, do not repeat that to Chrissy.”

Eddie frowns, “why? Chrissy says it’s girl talk?” Eddie asks, clearly uncertain over the concept of ‘girl talk.’

“Since when are you a girl?” Robin finally clambers back up with the rest of them.

“Chrissy say I hon-or-rary girl. I bagged King Steve.”

Steve’s never been happier to see Keith walk into the store.

Part TwentySeven

[bluesidez]

GymRat!Miguel Part 9.1 | full chapter without breaks on AO3

content warning: lots of music links, ROADTRIP!!, some hurt/comfort at the beginning, a damn near comedy if I must say so myself, Spanish parts (if wrong, please correct me), lots of fluff, Buc-ee's shenanigans (I love that store), Miguel drives a Range Rover (hot, I know. Tyler got that MUNYUN), some jealous Miguel (MY FAVORITE), a hint of jealous reader 🫨 (she has a storm coming lol), simp Miguel if I'm being honest, 18+ so MNDI, male masturbation, wet wet fantasies, both reader and Miguel are h word for each other

word count: 7.1k, damn near proofread (this is only one part of the behemoth)

I did some research on MLE, yachts, superyachts, dolphins, and water activities for this chapter. 🤠 Hopefully, it shows! The yacht size I imagined is somewhere in between a regular yacht and a superyacht/megayacht. I built a Range Rover just for GR!Miguel you guys. (thanks to my irl besties and @slushycoookie once again 🥰)

Prev | Next (Part 9.2) ✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮ Masterlist

GymRat!Miguel who comes back home after nearly a week of bliss with you. He floated all the way home from dropping you off with Tyler’s people.

He made them wait much longer than they needed to when he decided to makeout with you next to the black Suburban. 

Only a few more weeks before he could see you again. 

GymRat!Miguel who is met with his mom sitting on the couch with just the tv glowing on her. 

His steps were too heavy to sneak past her, so he just sighed and settled down on one of the plush chairs. 

“I see you’re home,” she says. Her eyes don’t move from the Golden Girls episode playing softly. 

“Sí, mamá.”

“How come you didn’t tell me where you went?”

“Gabriel told you where I was. I’m sure you asked him.” Miguel was tired already. 

“He did, pero eso no fue lo que te pregunté.” (but that’s not what I asked you)

“Ma-”

“Mijo.”

“You’re not even looking at me.”

“And you’ve sat so far away. Like I’m going to hurt you. Miguel, I asked you to come home. You didn’t respond. You didn’t call. You didn’t even speak to me when you came back a few days ago.”

Miguel stared at her face, willing himself not to get emotional over this. 

“I acknowledge that I should have let you know where I was. I didn’t talk to you because I didn’t want to say something I would regret.”

Conchata finally turned to look at Miguel. Her first-born. The life given to her after so much turmoil. 

She could still see the little boy that would cry at the drop of a hat. She could still see the little boy that would dry up his tears if Gabriel started to cry with him, just to comfort him. The little boy with so much room in his heart. 

She can see him now, face ridden with sadness. A face that she knew too well. 

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, mijo.”

“Well, you did. Again. I’m used to it. This isn’t a new feeling. What is new, is you acting like this towards someone else close to me.”

“I-”

“Let me finish, ma, please. You’ve never been a parent that cares about how I’ve felt in regards to anything. You have made decisions for me without a second thought without ever considering how I might feel. You’ve also never been the type of person who hurts someone else for no reason. I’m sorry I’m not with someone you picked, but I’m not sorry for loving her. She is everything to me. If I were to fall, there’s no doubt in my mind that she would be there to build me back up. She’d probably even break my fall if I couldn’t stop her.” 

Miguel stopped to look up, willing himself not to cry. 

“What you said to her brought something out that she hasn’t felt in a while. You broke her in a way that I promised myself I never would. I wanted to present her to my family in a positive light, to show her off. I didn’t expect you to be ecstatic about her, but I did hope that you could at least open your heart up once you met her.”

He looked off, tears escaping from his eyes. You’re in a better position now, but he won’t know if that donner will creep back up on you, making you hate yourself for something that’s not your fault. He remembered the pain in your voice, how kept it in until you were with him and away from the manor. He hated it. 

“But instead, she was met with two people who paid her no respect. Two people that brought her turmoil. I expected Kron to be horrible, look at how he talked to you, but not you. You were supposed to be better. You didn’t see how much you hurt her, I did. It’s like we prepped for nothing but a shitshow and I should have followed my gut and kept her to myself a little longer.”

Miguel sniffed, wiping at his nose in hopes that it would stop the urge to cry. 

Conchata let the silence rest. Nothing but the TV and her son’s sniffles filled the room. 

“I’m sorry, Miguel.”

Miguel turned back. Shocked that she didn’t put up much of a fight. 

“I just,” she paused. “There’s no excuse for how I treated her. She didn’t deserve it and if I could go back and change my behavior, I would. I think that I was just overwhelmed. Upset because my baby is growing up. He’s moving on and I can’t hold him in my hands anymore. I don’t tuck him in anymore. I don’t have to check under his bed for monsters. He doesn’t need me to do anything. So this shift is hurting me, mijo, and I took it out on the wrong people. For that, I’m so sorry.”

Conchata was a hard-cased woman. She stuck with her opinions, even if they were blatantly wrong. She was proud and vocal. She never let people see her crack or fall under pressure. So, seeing her like this, begging for Miguel to understand her, was a rare moment for Miguel. 

“Ma, me growing up doesn’t stop me from being your son. I’m still here. I’ll still rely on you, but I want you to have a break too. You have to let me grow. I won’t live here forever, but that doesn’t mean I won’t come back to you. I’m glad you were able to express this to me, I just wish you could have said so sooner.”

“Lo siento, mijo.”

Miguel got up to get closer to her. He wrapped her up in his arms, too easy to forgive her. “It’s ok.”

He leans back and kisses her forehead, heart mending by the smallest of stitches. “You still have to apologize to my girlfriend, though.”

“I will when I see her again.”

“And we need to go to therapy.”

“George has already told me.”

“And I want you to make me some ceviche. And tamales.”

“Bueno.”

“And tres leches.” 

She sighed, but squeezed him tighter. “Don’t curse in front of me again, and I’ll consider it.”

“Gracias, mamá.”

“De nada, mijo.”

GymRat!Miguel who goes to sleep with his body feeling a lot lighter. The weight of his relationship with his mom lifted a little off his shoulders.

GymRat!Miguel who has two grand master plans that he’s been setting out for months: eating you out and making your first time together special. 

He’s been overthinking every detail like a maniac. The peaches from the fruit bowl have been disappearing to his room for research purposes only- and a snack of course. 

He once ended up on the girl side of Tik Tok where they complain about everything guys get wrong when pleasuring them. He had been thoroughly reading the comments and taking notes here and there. He didn’t really need the tip about making noise though, he already does that just thinking about you. So many times has he had to stuff his mouth when jerking off. 

He also had a few tabs open in incognito mode. That research is only done in the deep of the night. 

Right now, he’s sitting at his desk reading some article about listening to your partner’s body and his mind can’t help but to wander off. Will you grip your thighs around him? He hopes so. He could die that way. Will you be vocal? Will you tell him if it’s too much? Will you guide his head and pull his hair? 

That last question has him gripping his sweats in anticipation. No doubt when you scratched at his back in the hotel room, he was reeling from the sensation. It was like a reward for him whenever you feel so good, you’re too unaware of what you’re doing to him physically. Too lost in bliss to register the marks and pain you’re leaving on him. You just want him to give you more. 

Miguel drops his pen and pushes the heel of his palm on his growing bulge. 

“Fuck.” Every time about an hour or so into researching, his head is full of you. He imagines what it’ll be like to finally taste you, to be inside you. 

He remembered how wet you got with just a little rubbing. Your body was so responsive to his movements and he couldn’t stop thinking about what would happen if you guys upped the foreplay. 

Miguel leaned back in his chair, arm over his head. He dropped his hand in his sweats hand gripping at the base of his erection, exhaling deep as he gave it a few pumps. 

Your hands on his chest. Your arms around his neck. Your nails scraping his back. Your thighs wrapping around his waist. Your breath on his lips. 

You opening up for him. You dripping down his fingers, down his legs, down his face. You screaming out his name loud enough for the entire neighborhood to file a complaint. You in whatever position he puts you in. He could hold you up. Maybe have your legs in the air or stretched out on the bed. He could have you grabbing for the sheets, the headboard, him. His head in your chest, in your pussy, in your ass. 

Pre-cum spilled onto his stomach, rolling down his shaft. Would you let him go that far?

He doesn’t know what’s worse, the cold showers and teeth-marked arms at the beginning of the relationship or his constant daydreams of your body connecting with his that kept occurring regularly. 

Maybe you felt the same way too. That was a new thought. 

Do you wonder about your first time together? Were you just as excited as him? Do you get wet at the thought of him inside of you? Do you have to stop everything and find pleasure like he does? Were your fingers enough or did you need more?

Miguel continued to move his hand up and down, squeezing occasionally to mimic what you might feel like. 

He’s groaning into his elbow, hips lifting from his desk chair. 

He could almost hear your voice in his ear. Begging, praising, crying out, stuttering. 

GymRat!Miguel who cums as Gabriel slams through the door. In a matter of 15 seconds, Miguel covers his drenched chest, shoves his sensitive dick back down, and grabs napkins to try to wipe away at his hand. 

Nevermind his shirt is now ruined. 

“What the fuck are you looking at and why is this picture showing a seductive pomegranate?”

“Why the fuck are you opening my door without knocking?”

“I did knock! I did our special knock plus a freestyle! I thought you were dead, Miguelito.”

Miguel’s heart felt a little tug despite its rapid tempo, “’M not dead, Gabri. Just busy. I didn’t hear you.”

Gabriel snickered when he got closer to look at his laptop. “I can see why. These tabs are a dead giveaway.” 

Gabriel reached over to stare at Miguel’s notebook. 

“These are some good tips! You shouldn’t expect her to taste like sweets, though.”

Nothing in his notes indicated that, but Miguel wanted to be offended for you anyway. 

Miguel gave Gabriel a hard side eye, mouth set deeply down. 

“I really wish you would get out of my room.”

“Oo, you should buy a rose. Dana loves that thing.”

“I don’t want to hear about whatever freaky shit you and Dana get up to, Gabriel.”

“You’ve caught me in more embarrassing situations, I’m just trying to lighten the mood! I also suggest those candy panties-”

“I’m not putting candy on- Gabriel. Can you please stop talking to me?”

“Miguel, this stuff is important!”

“¿Por qué eres así?” Miguel mumbled. “Ok, yeah. I get it. But you can chat to me about this after I’ve switched shirts.” (Why are you like this?)

“Fine, I’ll come back. Ten minutes. Then we must have a healthy chat about how to have fun safely.”

Gabriel skipped back to the door singing Candy loud enough to be heard as he went back to his own room. 

“Strawberry! Raspberry! All those good things! Violets and gumdrops that’s what you’re saying to me, me, me.”

A black hole would be nice to save himself from this situation. 

GymRat!Miguel who jumps out of his bed the day of the “Yacht Weekend.” Gabriel is dead set on calling it the “Yachty Pawty” and Miguel thinks that’s unbelievably stupid. 

GymRat!Miguel who has to go and pull Gabriel out of his bed to get him to get ready, his body stretching like a ferret. He’s never been a morning person. It’s like his brain didn’t start computing until noon. 

GymRat!Miguel who jogs around the neighborhood to kill time. The weather is a lot cooler in the morning plus it gives Gabriel time to come to reality. He waves to the son of one of his neighbors who gawks at him as he passes by. 

Were his shorts giving away too much again? He didn’t feel a draft. 

He looked down at his crotch. All good. 

GymRat!Miguel who calls you while he stops to take a water break. 

“Amor!” His voice is bright and his smile is radiant, watching as you squint at the screen.

Your cheek is squished against the pillow and you’re wrapped up in your covers. 

“Hey, Miggy. It’s so bright there.”

Your voice was scratchy, a sign of how deep in sleep you were. You were so fucking cute. 

“Are you running?”

He placed his phone on a nearby bench so he could stretch. “Yeah, I’m taking a break.”

He went into a deep lunge, stretching his body low to the ground. 

You went quiet for so long, Miguel thought the call dropped. 

“Baby? Did you go back to sleep?” Miguel asked.

“No, I’m still here. Those pants are,” you started to shuffle your phone. “Really short.”

“Really?” Miguel stood up and looked down at his pants. They did cut off high up his thighs, but they were good for running. Plus, he got hot easily, so he needed as much wind on his skin as possible. “They’re comfy.”

“Mm hm. Can you turn around for me?”

Miguel turned, confused but willing. 

“Got it. Thank you, my muscle bear!”

“What did you just do?”

“Took pictures of your ass. It looks great. I’m gonna hold it real good later.”

Miguel laughed and grabbed his phone. 

“Can I hold yours, too?” He wanted to do way more than hold it. 

You smile sleepily at the camera. “I’ll think about it.”

GymRat!Miguel who lets you stay on the phone while he runs back to the house. 

“You’re just going to hear the wind and me breathing for a few minutes.”

“And I’m fine with that! It’s like boyfriend ASMR. Peaceful.”

GymRat!Miguel who ruffles Gabriel’s hair when he gets back home. He’s staring at the wall and shoveling cereal in his mouth at the slowest pace known to man. 

“Buenos días, hermanito!” (Good morning, little brother)

“Mm.”

GymRat!Miguel who takes a cold shower to cool off for once and not because he’s having explicit thoughts of you. 

GymRat!Miguel who chugs down a protein smoothie while he waits for Gabriel to come downstairs. 

GymRat!Miguel who answers the door to Dana. She’s got some shades on and a purse with the same texture as a croc. 

She peers over her shades. “You’re looking put together!”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Don’t play dumb. You’re trying to impress your girl! What do you have planned? A dinner on the horizon? A spa date? Oh! No! Another shopping spree?l

Yes. No, but he should arrange that. And absolutely not. He’s not Tyler. 

“No,” Miguel squints. “But how can you tell?”

“You’re easy to read, big guy. Even when you think about her your eyes turn into hearts. When have you ever thought to wear a button down for a roadtrip to the beach?”

“Touche.”

“I’ll figure out what you’re up to. I have my ways.”

She twirls and runs up to Gabriel’s room, leaving a waft of strong perfume after her. 

With that, Miguel knew it would be at least another 45 minutes before he could get on the road. 

GymRat!Miguel who does his special knock on Gabriel’s door. 

“I’m opening it, so you fiends better have your clothes on.”

He swung the door open to the disheveled couple. Dana with her hair astray and Gabriel breathing eerily hard. 

“Seriously, guys? I need to go by the airport.”

“I was just waking him up!” Dana says with a voice that was much hoarser than it was an hour ago. 

“Well,” Miguel put a hand on his hip in a way that anyone could tell he was Conchata O’Hara’s son. “Are you awake, Gabri?”

Gabriel’s face was as red as a tomato as he shook his head no. 

Miguel pitched his voice higher to mimic his brother. “Ten minutes. And then we can have a conversation on time management and respect. Except it won’t be “safely” because I’m going to hurt you.”

GymRat!Miguel who finally backs out of the driveway in exactly ten minutes. Gabriel is rubbing his arm in the passenger seat with a pout on his face. Dana is grinning from ear to ear. 

GymRat!Miguel who hands Gabriel the aux. He might be a silly boy, but his music taste is immaculate.

GymRat!Miguel who almost has to hurt Gabriel again when he doesn’t want to get out of the passenger seat. 

“Why do I have to move?”

“Because I said so.”

“That’s not grounds for anything!”

Dana pokes her head over the console. “Gabie. Read the room. He wants to grip on to his girl while he drives with one hand. Show off.” 

GymRat!Miguel who kisses you and grabs your bags at the same time when he sees you. The cars around are loud, honking sporadically. People are walking and running to catch cabs or get to their loved ones. Workers are trying to direct the traffic. 

It all quiets down when he meets your eyes. 

“Hola, mi amor.”

You wrap your arms around his neck and bring him close. “Hello to you too, my love.”

You smile up until he presses his lips against yours. More and more pecks follow after that. 

He holds his nose to yours, completely enraptured by your presence. 

“Oh my god, let’s go!” Gabriel shouts from the car, pressing his palm against the steering wheel. 

“You’re not the one driving, pinche pendejo!”

You giggle and stand on your tippy toes to try and see over Miguel’s shoulder. You’re still too short so you lean sideways. Miguel melts. 

“Just a few more and we’ll be done Gabriel!”

“Fine. For you, I’ll let it slide.”

You stand back up straight and kiss Miguel a little more. 

GymRat!Miguel who does reach over and grip your thigh. If Gabriella and Troy weren’t in the back belting, he’d hike his hand up further. 

“Right now I can hardly breathe!” Gabriel pivots his head towards Dana dramatically, water bottle a faux mic. 

“Oh! You can do it, just know that I believe.” Dana is touching his chest dramatically. 

“Are they always like this?” You ask, laughing a little at their antics. 

Miguel groans in annoyance. “Yes.”

GymRat!Miguel who nearly sprints out the car when he parks by a pump. He’s been riding for a bit and he needs to stretch his legs. 

“Miggy, you want something from the store?” 

You’re standing next to the car, the wind blowing your hair back. Your jacket blows away a little, showing off the tight little outfit you’re sporting. You’re beautiful. 

He wants to break you down in the front seat of his car.

He swallows the thought. “I’ll come in there soon, don’t worry.”

You walk in the giant gas station and head immediately to the Icee machines. For the best possible experience, you should wait until it’s time to go before buying it. 

As you’re walking along the wall wondering what flavor you should get, you feel a tug at your arm. 

You turn to see Dana with some bottles in her hand. 

“I don’t know what he’s planning, but trust me when I say, you should take these.”

You frown as you take the cranberry juice. “Um.”

“I’ve been around those two long enough to know when one of them is up to something. I mean Gabriel hasn’t said anything off, but look at how he’s bopping around the store.”

You turn and look. 

He is indeed bouncing more than usual. He’s so tall that if he puts even more pep in his step, he might just break a hole in the ceiling. 

“Ok,” you turn back to Dana while fighting a laugh. “So they are planning something. What does that have to do with me and cranberry juice?”

“Gabie tries his best to use bro code, but I quite literally suck the information out of him sometimes. He caught Miguel looking at lots of articles about pleasuring his partner. With his mouth. That’s all I know for now.”

Your heart picks up. He was still going on about that?

“That might just be a coincidence.” 

“He’s wearing damn near beach attire with his hair styled. He held onto your thigh for an hour, even when the turns got tough. He stared at you walking into the store even until he couldn’t see you anymore.”

You bit your lip. “Those last two things are standard Miguel behavior.”

Dana huffs and spins you around. 

Across the store, you could see Miguel and Gabriel huddled over something. Miguel with his eyes focused and Gabriel animatedly explaining something. Every once in a while, Miguel would nod and roll his eyes up as if he was mentally checking on something. 

You sigh and turn back around. 

“Do they sell pineapples too?”

GymRat!Miguel who looms over you while you and Dana are looking at some cakes. You look up at him, pressing your head against his chest. 

Miguel kissed your forehead when you beamed at him. 

He looked over to Gabriel who was also crowding Dana and shouted, “¡Vamos!”

In a matter of seconds, Miguel had lifted you and brought you to the middle of the store where the workers were cooking up fresh meat. 

You squeal in shock and laugh on the way over. Miguel’s not even struggling. 

Gabriel on the other hand huffs as he places Dana down. 

“You need to work on that, babe.”

“I can lift you when I want to!” Gabriel replies, petulant. 

“For like one minute maybe. Why don’t you start working out with Miguel?”

“No thanks.” They both said in unison, almost carbon copies of each other. 

Really, if Miguel didn’t work out, or if Gabriel did for about a year, they could definitely play off as twins. Only subtle things separating them, like Gabriel’s freckles, softer face, and slightly shorter height and Miguel’s less curly hair, thicker eyebrows, and deeper voice. 

In your eyes, their bond was precious. You wondered what their baby pictures looked like. 

“You guys are so cute,” you say, reaching up to squeeze both of their cheeks. 

They both melt the same way in your hands. Miguel’s face is only a little bit hotter against your palm. 

GymRat!Miguel who presses up against you while you both check out. You stay nonchalant and talk to the cashier like normal, but you could feel Miguel’s heartbeat through your thin romper. 

Every breath he took molded on your skin, his chest rising and falling against your head. 

He kept steady hands on your hips and waist, only moving them to pay for your snacks. 

The cashier would take not-so-subtle breaks to stare up at him, face getting redder after each glance. 

You could only think “me too, girl.”

He really did look good today. His shirt was open a little lower than normal, his shorts loose but tightening around his thighs with every step he took. His hair was slicked back with a few strands falling loose and shades sat perfectly on top of his head. A chain danced around his neck, the color glowing on his pretty skin. He was tanner than usual, the sun making him glow after so many morning runs. 

To top it off he smelled really good. You wanted to lick him. 

From how slow the cashier was moving, you knew she was ready to take a lick too. 

You took moments like this in stride. Especially when Miguel was pressed so hard against you, you could feel his dick at the small of your back. 

Still, when people still tried to hit on your boyfriend or gawked at him even when you caught them, it was hard not feel frustrated about others thinking he can be taken from you. Or just ignoring you. 

More often than not, Miguel would bring you back down to earth with some action to let others know that he’s taken. 

Today, it was a kiss to your neck and a smack to your ass followed by his hand rubbing circles in the same spot. 

He grabbed the bags in one hand and your hip in the other. 

You looked back to the cashier scanning the next customer far more aggressively than before.  

GymRat!Miguel who eats half of his sandwich before starting the car back up. 

You still place the other half in front of his mouth, feeding him occasionally. 

He just smiles before and after each bite. Giddy with attention. You wipe his mouth to stop sauce from spilling from his shirt. 

Miguel almost turns the car into turbo drive. 

GymRat!Miguel who finally makes it to the beach an hour or so later. It’s late Thursday afternoon, so the sun is still shining bright. 

Gabriel is excited to finally be free from the tight back seat so he uses the opportunity to blast music from Miguel’s stereo. 

“C’mon, Dana! Dance with me,” Gabriel said, pulling her out of the back seat and bringing her to the front of the var. “Let’s have a twerk-off.”

You can’t stop the laugh that spills out of your mouth. You couldn’t imagine either of them shaking anything. 

“I can not twerk and you know it!”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t shake. Don’t be shy now!”

You and Miguel get out of the car to stretch, Miguel watching the two over the hood of the car, unphased. 

Gabriel turns to you with a glint in his eyes. “Can you twerk?”

You were ready to shake your ass on a yacht after some liquid courage, but you didn’t mind a little dancing beforehand. 

You hurried to the front before the song was over and put your hands on the hood. You bend over with an arch in your back and move your ass to the beat of the song. 

You hear Gabriel shout, “Oh shit! Go, go, go!”

Dana sprints, nearly bulldozing Gabriel to stand behind you and catch it. You laugh at the two and bend even deeper, encouraged by their cheers. 

GymRat!Miguel whose eyes nearly pop out of his head when you bend over. 

When did you learn how to do that?

He’s stunned for a second until he reaches inside the car and turns the radio off. He’s going to kill Gabriel. 

Miguel hurries to the front and picks Dana up by her armpits to move her aside. “You guys are wasting my gas and neither you or you are CashApping me shit.”

He straightens you up and pulls your risen romper back over your ass. He stands behind you like a bodyguard, arms crossed and frown deepening. 

“I don’t know what you think we’re going to be doing on this yacht, but all of my girls are throwing it back. You need to prepare yourself, Mig.” Dana scoffs, mostly offended that Miguel just removed her from a dream spot. 

“Yeah, Mig. Be mindful of why you were invited to the function,” Gabriel turned his nose up and wrapped his arm around Dana. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, m’lady.”

Gabriel bowed to you and you curtsied back with a fake dress. The two of them walked like royalty to the trunk, gathering their bags. 

GymRat!Miguel who stuttered trying to explain himself when you turned to him. 

“Is it going to be a problem for you that I’m dancing with others?”

“No!” he said way too fast. 

You gave him a look with your eyebrow raised. 

“You just,” he paused. His voice got quieter as he played with the strap of your romper. “You never danced on me before.”

He had a pout on his face, mouth turned like a duck. 

“Oh my god, Miguel. I can dance on you if you would like. You just have to ask.” He was so cute. You’ve never seen him get that jealous before. 

You kind of want to play with him some more. 

“Can you dance on me later?” he asks, not daring to meet your eyes. 

“Of course.”

You giggle as you kiss his cheek. His pout slowly disappearing from his face. 

GymRat!Miguel who is greeted by the enthusiastic captain with a shake that moves his entire arm. He’s a jolly little fellow, cheeks rosy and his mustache curled on the ends. He was also strangely stocky. He reminded Miguel of Santa Claus if he took vacations in the Bahamas when he’s not at the North Pole. 

“I take it you’re Mr. Stone’s son, yes?”

“That would be me.”

“Excellent! Excellent. Your father has told me quite a lot about you. You sure do take after his height. My name is Captain Barrett and I’ll be steering the boat for you youngins this weekend. Me and your father go way back. And between you and me, I was better lookin’!”

Miguel chuckles awkwardly, trying to move the conversation along. 

He finally looks past Miguel and sees the three of you standing there. 

“And who might you three be?”

“This is my younger brother, Gabriel. His girlfriend, Dana.” 

“And this is my girlfriend.” Miguel moves by your side and wraps his arm around your shoulders. His tone is full of warmth as he says your name. 

“It’s nice to meet you all. Will you all be in our cabins this weekend?”

“Yeah, this is four of the ten staying on board. The others won’t get here until tomorrow at noon.”

“Is Kron supposed to be joining you all too?”

Miguel stiffens, his grip on your shoulder a little firmer. 

“Not that I know of, no.”

“Perfect! He ruined my other boat and it took me ages to clean it up. Hopefully, you’re nothing like him.” Captain Barrett does a little pleading gesture with his hands. 

“Welp, follow me and I’ll show you on board!”

GymRat!Miguel who is still stunned by the amount of things money can buy when he sees the yacht. He’ll never get used to the life of luxury that Tyler introduces to him. 

“Holy shit,” Gabriel mutters as he stares up at the black and wooden beauty of the deck. Dana elbows in his side, telling him to be polite in front of the captain. 

“Welcome to Black Jack.”

There were crew members there to hand out fancy smoothies and grab everyone’s bags. 

You had seen yachts on some of your old high school classmates’ Insta stories but this was beyond. 

“I’d like to introduce you guys to the crew. They’ll be assisting me to give you youngins a good time.”

Captain Barrett ran down the line and you all greeted every person. Miguel made mental notes of their names. They’ll be getting close with all of the surprises he had planned for you. 

“And this is my son, Blake! He’ll be helping me up in the cockpit.”

Miguel stopped to shake his hand. 

He was like the textbook definition of a pretty frat boy. Tall, but not O’Hara tall, tan, and handsome. He smiled and showed a straight line of teeth, dimples peeking through. 

“Nice to meet you, Miguel. Kron’s really not coming?”

What’s with people asking about that dickhead today?

“Nope. Just us and our friends. If he does come, it’s news to me.” 

Blake went to shake your hand and it was like he started to glow under the sun. His smile went up to his eyes and he mimicked the heartthrobs in the movies Miguel’s cousins watched growing up. 

“And who’s this?”

“My name is-”

“My girlfriend,” Miguel said before you could even finish. 

You looked up at him in shock, laughing it off. “That too, but I have a name.” You respond to Blake and shake his hand. 

Miguel doesn’t like how his eyes scan your body. It was subtle, but he caught it. 

Even as you all finish up greetings, Blake is still making moves towards you. The type of flirting that probably flew over your head, but Miguel has been around enough guys like him to know exactly what it was. 

 “So is this your first time on a boat?” Blake asked you while he guided you guys to your room. 

“No, actually. But it’s definitely my first time on a yacht, especially one this huge.”

Miguel followed behind with Dana and Gabriel.

“Is this your first time on a boat?” Miguel mocked Blake quietly, mouth scrunched up. 

“‘La envidia esta flaca, porque muerde y no come,’” Gabriel replied. “You’re turning green from your neck, bro. He’s just being nice.” (Envy is thin, because it bites and does not eat.)

“No, he’s definitely flirting,” Dana quipped. “He’s not even paying the rest of us any attention.”

“Thank you, Dana. And Gabriel, don’t ever quote a Spaniard to me again.”

“How do you call that flirting? He’s not even-” Gabriel paused as Blake laughed really loud at something that you said with his hand guiding you way too close on your ass. “Ah shit.”

Miguel stomped towards you two, yanking Blake’s hand off of you and replacing it with his. 

“I think we’ve got it from here. You can show those two where they’ll be staying. Thanks,” Miguel nods his head towards Dana and Gabriel with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. 

“Right,” Blake responds to him with a blank face. “I’ll see you up on the deck.” Blake winks at you before walking further. 

“Don’t kill him, Miguel,” Dana pats his shoulder as she walks by. 

“You’ve got my permission to hurt him if he touches me one more time though,” you say, snuggling close to Miguel and patting at his chest. 

“So, I’m killing him. Got it.”

GymRat!Miguel who watches you twirl around the VIP suite. 

“Miguel! This is so beautiful! Look at the view.”

“Oh my god! There’s a walk-in closet!”

“There’s a bidet! How’d they fit that and a shower in here?”

Miguel leaned on the doorway, watching you comment on every little thing. 

You made sure to start to spray everything with Lysol, a habit from your mom when traveling. 

While you were in the bathroom, Miguel got out one of his first gifts of the night. 

It was another keychain to add to your collection. He’s been working hard to have this weekend make up for the awful dinner night. 

He placed it on the bed and started to open his bag to grab his pajamas. 

“What’s this?” you ask, coming out to spray the bed. 

“Just a little gift for you.”

“Aw, this is so cute!” Your voice gets higher as you take in the little legos. “They even look like us! When did you get these?”

“I got them made about a week ago. You like them?”

“I love them! Thank you, Miggy.”

GymRat!Miguel who wants to moan when you walk out. 

You guys are going on a double date with Gabriel and Dana at a casual-not-so-casual restaurant farther in the city. That didn’t stop you from getting all dolled up. 

You walk to him on the bed, standing in between his legs. 

“Amor,” Miguel said, rubbing his hands up and down your backside. “You look amazing.”

“Thank you. So do you,” you responded, careful to not run your hands through his hair. It was a comfort for you, but you didn’t want to ruin it. 

Instead, you bent down to kiss him in the quiet of the room. The sun was still out, but a lot dimmer than before. Little patches of sunlight caught Miguel’s eyes. The color was so deeply brown, you swore you saw speckles of red throughout. 

He moved to sit you on his lap, glancing over every detail of your body. 

“You’re making it harder for me to want to leave.”

“It’s funny that you say that. You’ve been walking around like you’re straight out of a beach movie. Chest out and legs for days.”

Miguel blushed and put his head in your chest, bending you back and holding you so you won’t fall. 

“What are you hiding for? It’s true!” you laugh as Miguel seemed to burrow his face deeper. 

“Yeah, but you don’t have to call me out.” He was just trying to impress you, per usual. 

GymRat!Miguel who gets nervous on the way to the restaurant. It was one of those immersive experiences with projections on the plates that told stories with the meals. They were pretty cute to Miguel and he figured that all three of you guys would love it. 

The only thing is, he pulled some strings with Tyler to add an extra animation in there. He’s not sure how much that cost, but he’s glad he didn’t have to see the price. 

GymRat!Miguel who side-eyes Gabriel when he just about screams as the little chef walks across the animated place. 

“He’s so tiny!” he whisper-shouts. “So precious!”

By the time the first course comes out Gabriel is fighting tears. 

“Control it, Gabri,” Miguel says, rubbing his back. 

“I’m trying. I really am.”

GymRat!Miguel whose heart blooms when you laugh at one of the scenes. The little chef is squabbling with a giant shrimp and losing the battle. 

GymRat!Miguel whose heart speeds up when the special animation starts up. 

Only the two of your plates are lit up. There’s a river of chocolate that separates the two. From Miguel’s plate, there’s a little version of him that calls to your plate. He watches as your eyes grow when a mini you climbs on top of the plate and yells back. Your character throws him a kiss, sending a pink flutter across the river. The wave of it goes straight to mini Miguel’s heart who in turn, falls backwards dramatically. 

The real you lets out a watery laugh at the scene, eyes looking at Miguel briefly in shock. 

Mini Miguel jumps back up and gets to work, digging around the plate to grab biscoff cookies from the chocolate ocean to make a boat. While he works, your character wanders around the plate cutely, tidying up the area for his arrival. 

When the boat is finished, Mini Miguel uses a giant spoon to steer the boat, singing out brightly the closer he gets to you. The mini you is jumping up and down, cheering him on just like you do in real life. 

Once he gets to the edge of your plate, you lean close to give him a kiss. He climbs from the boat onto the plate and spins you around. You giggle in his hold until he lets you down. 

From there, he starts to use the spoon to drag a chocolate message across the plate. He takes confident steps, spreading the brown syrup across the plate with ease. 

“Tú eres mi luz.” (You are my light.)

When he finishes it, you both sit at the edge of the plate, feeding each other scoops of chocolate from the giant spoon. They both look up at you to wave, the Mini Miguel cheesing extremely hard as he waves both arms. 

The animation fades away in a wave of browns and pinks, the waiters bringing out the actual plates of food. 

The floodgates open when you’re presented with the same chocolate message, a slice of chocolate biscoff cake, and little chocolate decorations of the mini you and Miguel. 

“Oh my god, the spoon is here too,” you say with emotion, picking up a chocolate coated spoon. “Miguel!”

You don't know what to do. You keep fanning your face in hopes to stop the tears from coming out and ruining the light makeup you had on. Dana hands you a pointed napkin and you thank her while holding your head back. 

Gabriel is a mess, faces wet with tears. His cheeks are round as he blows out air to control his breathing. 

“I didn’t mean to make you cry, mi amor,” Miguel’s face is ridden with worry as he reaches across the table to grab your hand. He looks to Gabriel and sighs, “You either, hermanito.” (little brother)

“I’m good. I gotta just,” Gabriel waves a hand in front of his face cutely. “Just gotta get this out. If you’ll excuse me.” 

He gets up to shuffle to the bathroom. 

“I better go help him out. He gets a little delirious when he cries like that,” Dana says, rubbing your shoulder as she leaves the table. 

Miguel wastes no time to sit in Dana’s seat, taking the napkin from your hands and wiping carefully at your tears. 

“I love you. So, so much,” you say, resting your face in his hands. “Everyday, you find new ways to surprise me. I don’t know how you do it, but I’m just…”

You pause, waving your hands in the air, unable to express how you felt. Just thinking about it has the tears spilling over again. 

“Hey, hey,” Miguel chides, catching your tears again. “If you keep crying, I’m going to cry.”

“I can’t help it, Miguel! You made a cookie boat to get to me. How can I not cry?”

Miguel reaches to kiss your cheeks in hopes to help you subside the tears, “I know, baby, I know. But to answer your first thought, when I think of you, the ideas just pour out of me. You’re my first true love, so I don’t know all the ends and outs of a relationship, but I do know what it feels like to be loved. I just want to extend that feeling to you.”

You stare in awe and the man sitting next to you, eyes glistening as you take in his words. 

“I think I need another tissue.”

Miguel laughs as he grabs one to pat at your face again. 

GymRat!Miguel who feeds you bites of the cake while you feed him scoops of ice cream when you’ve calmed down. You can’t stop smiling for the rest of the night. 

divider by: @iwonbin 🩵

Part 9.2 here!

a/n: This is half of the chapter, but I had so much fun writing this! (mostly because I was not doing my actual work while writing half of it), especially Gabriel's silly ass. Like, it was super duper fun. Writing jealous Miguel was also great. There's so much stuff about reader that he was unaware of and I've been imagining him sitting at a table and yelling like Kendrick when it all plays back in his mind.

As always, like, comment, and reblog. Let me know how you feel! 🩵

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@maxlinpetersen

[moonstruckme]

hey! I really really really like your writing very much!

can you do one where the reader and spencer reid are both nerds but different kinds of nerds. so the reader's more of a literature/ language nerd and spencer's basically an expert in LITERALLY everything. so she has a major crush on him but always hesitates to make a move on him cuz she thinks that she doesn't stand a chance because she struggles with basic math and physics chemistry make her head hurt

and so when spencer asks her out she's all baffled like you don't think I'm dumb?!😭😭

Hi, thanks honey!

Spencer Reid x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

It’s one of those rare days where you can actually afford a lunch break, and you’ve decided to take it outside with your book. Every day lately feels like it could be the last nice one you get before the cold weather comes in, and you’re enjoying the crisp breeze and warm sunshine on your face as you get settled on the bench outside the cafe where you work. 

The book you’ve been reading for the past week is good but not great; you’re sort of pushing yourself to finish just so you can say it’s over with and tell the friend who lent it that you gave it your best. Still, you’re very nearly lost in it by the time a pair of black converse comes to a stop in front of you. 

You follow them upward. “Spencer!” you say, probably with a touch too much alacrity. Too quickly, too. You might’ve at least pretended to have to think about the name of the sweet-faced doctor looking down at you. But it’s not your fault; you’ve gotten used to calling it out from the counter when he comes here to pick up his lunch at least three days out of the week. 

“Hi,” he says, teetering on the edge of bashful. “I’m surprised to see you out here, you’re almost always working when I come by.” 

It’s embarrassingly gratifying that he knows that. You’d never hold it against him if he didn’t, but you’ve come to enjoy the little bits of conversation you grab with him when he comes by, and it’s nice to know that he’s noticed you too. 

“It’s a slow day,” you reply by way of explanation. “I figured I’d grab a break while I still could.” 

Spencer smiles like he totally gets that. You imagine he does. “Good idea. Can I sit?”

“Of course!” Again, way too eager. You’ve got to work on controlling your tone around him. You move your discarded jacket into your lap. 

“Thanks,” he says, sitting in the space you’ve made for him. His legs are so long he looks like he’s squatting on the bench, knees high enough for him to set his elbows on. Which he does, tilting his head to see you. “What’re you reading?”

“Oh, um, it’s nothing. I mean, I wouldn’t really recommend it,” you laugh. Christ, you don’t want him to know what you’re reading. Spencer probably reads astrophysics textbooks for fun. “It’s not very good.” 

Spencer puts his hand over yours, far from forceful as he tips the page toward him until he can see the cover. Your brain is short-circuiting so badly it’s a wonder you don’t drop the paperback onto the pavement. 

“I haven’t heard of it,” he says, which surprises you. Spencer seems so knowledgeable it’s difficult to believe there’s anything in existence that’s not stored somewhere in his hard drive. “Why are you reading it if you don’t think it’s good?” 

He doesn’t ask it in any unkind or judgemental way, but something inside you tenses nonetheless. You know perhaps too much about Spencer Reid. It’s not like you’d gone out of your way to figure him out, but the facts had presented themselves to you almost serendipitously and you’d put the pieces together. You know that he’s in the FBI, not only because of the laminated identifier he sometimes leaves clipped to his shirtpocket when he comes in, but also because of the coworkers that occasionally come with him. From those coworkers, you also know that he’s a doctor, and you gather that he’s generally respected and admired as well as cared for by his team. He seems a bit awkward, but sure of himself where it matters, and he goes into every interaction with a kind curiosity. Most of all, you know that Spencer is smart. Like, expert in everything smart. You’d caught a few jokes from the people he’s brought in about an eidetic memory, his multiple PhDs, and the nickname “boy genius.” No matter how shy and sweet someone is, that’s intimidating. 

And it’s unnerving to have someone with an IQ higher than you can probably fathom asking about your intellectual habits. 

“Well, the plot doesn’t actually have much movement, so it’s pretty boring,” you say hesitantly. “I guess at this point I’m mostly in it for the prose. Plus my friend recommended it, so I have to finish it to keep her happy.” 

Spencer laughs at your little joke, nodding. “Wow, the prose alone is enough to keep you going? It must be pretty fascinating.” 

You want to backpedal immediately, but settle for a one-shouldered shrug. “It’s alright. I’m kind of a nerd for that stuff. Rhetorical devices and all.”

Spencer tilts his head, something igniting in his brown eyes. Interest. “Rhetorical devices. You mean like metaphor and personification?”

You nod. “Yeah, like those, but also anadiplosis and polysyndeton and anastrophe.” Spencer’s eyebrows move slowly upward as you speak, and you feel heat rising to your cheeks despite the slight chill. “I just like that there’s things that affect the emotion—or the pacing, or whatever—of writing that we as readers pick up on almost subconsciously, but were so intentional for the writer.” 

Spencer’s nodding, eyes going somewhere just slightly distant. “Yeah, that’s a good point. I mean, I know writing is a very intentional process, but I never really think about the tiny, word-level decisions authors make to influence readers.” 

“It’s so cool,” you agree. “Like, how long do you think it takes someone to land on the exact right word for what they’re trying to convey, or to structure their sentences in a way that builds momentum over the course of a paragraph? Like, so much goes into it.” 

Spencer’s smiling at you, and you realize you’re gushing, geeky zeal bursting out of you like a soda bottle that’s been shaken and finally uncapped. “Sorry. Um, what’re you reading lately?” 

“Don’t be sorry,” he says quickly, still smiling at you. “I actually just finished my last book, so I’m looking for something new. If this book has all that and isn’t up to your standards, I’d be interested to see what you really enjoy reading.” 

Your cheeks are burning hot; you hope Spencer thinks the redness is from the cool breeze. “I’d be nervous to give you a recommendation,” you admit. “Too much pressure.” 

Spencer waves you off. “I’ll read anything, don’t worry about it. Hey, have you ever been to that coffee shop on fifth? It’s in a bookstore.” 

You blink. “No, I haven’t heard of it. That sounds cool, though.” 

A bit of pink tinges Spencer’s cheeks; it’s probably from the cool breeze. “Yeah, well, you should let me take you there sometime. If you want, of course,” he adds hastily. “Don’t worry about it if not.” 

It takes you a second to realize what’s happening. And then once you do, another second to make yourself believe it. “Like, as a date?” you ask, just to be sure.

 Spencer’s smile is hopeful behind its timidity. “Yeah. Yeah, if you’re okay with that.” 

“Yeah.” You can’t think of anything better to say, your brain filling with buzzing bees. “That sounds good. Thanks.” 

He laughs, eyebrows coming together bemusedly. “Well, don’t thank me. I should be thanking you.” 

It’s more a thanks for his taking action, you think. For making a move when you’d been too scared to, stagnant with months over your anxiety that he’d think you were too dumb or trivial to want to keep talking to you after he’d picked up his sandwich. 

“Okay, great.” He stands. “Well, I have to get back, but I’ll, uh…I’ll see you? Friday, maybe? I can come by here after your shift.” 

“You know when my shift ends?”

Now even his ears are turning red. “You…around four, right? I sometimes see you if I’m leaving work around then.” 

You smile. “Yeah, four. See you then, Dr. Reid.” 

“See you then!” he turns around, and you can see the exact moment he thinks to wonder how you know his last name. You don’t bother worrying about it.

[romanticintheory]

Can you do something fluffy and domestic with Price. Like maybe him trying to ask civilian reader out on a date, and everything is just going against him. (He eventually does get to ask her whether or not it was how he planned it.)

john wants to ask his favorite waiter/waitress out on a date, but the universe seems to have other plans for him.

john price x gn!reader

part 2

fluff, john trying his best, domesticity

a/n: ty for the request!! you’re my first one so i hope you like it <3 also, let’s just pretend like the timeline of this fic makes sense :)

-

Oh, this poor man was hopeless from the start. He had been interested in you for a while and was finding the courage within himself to finally ask you out. He felt silly about the ache in his chest whenever he thought about what your response might be. He just wanted to do right by you was all. So, when he was finally out of his latest mission and allowed to take a break, he was determined to pop the question to you.

The plan was to stop by the flower shop and buy a simple bouquet for you, but when he found himself in front of the store it had been closed. “Family Emergency. Will be back next week.” He didn’t have a week.

Okay, so, no flowers. It was disappointing, to say the least, but he could make do. 

You were nearing the end of your shift when your coworker, Missy, tapped you on the shoulder. As you turned away from the table you were cleaning, she leaned down and whispered in your ear, “There’s that hot man here, again. He’s asking for you, dear.”

She ended her news with a knowing wink. Looking past her shoulder, you could clearly see John sitting at a table with a menu in his hands. Your cheeks flushed at Missy’s insinuation.

“Thanks,” you managed to choke out, hoping she didn’t notice how flustered you were.

“Of course. That’s the second time, just so you know,” she reminded teasingly, nudging you with her elbow encouragingly before leaving to go attend to her own tables.

Out of the three times John had been to your restaurant (including this one), he spent the last two specifically requesting your presence. Though you tried not to think much of it, you couldn’t ignore the way it made your heart flutter.

Straightening your uniform, you made your way to his table with a genuine smile—a stark contrast to the fake one you give to other customers just for the sake of work. John pretended like he wasn’t secretly watching you in the periphery of his vision and looked up at you once you found your way to him.

“It’s nice to see you again,” you beamed.

“‘S nice to see you too,” he replied, unable to keep that lovestruck smile off his face. “How have you been, sweetheart?”

You laughed softly, “I’ve been alright. You know, just the same old. How about you, John?”

“I’m afraid it’s been the same for me. Just got off a mission.” Not once did his eyes leave yours. It was almost intimidating, the way he was so dedicated to giving you his full attention.

“Really? You’ll have to tell me about it sometime,” you said hopefully.

It was the perfect opportunity for him. All he had to say was, ”Actually, I was wondering if you’d like to go out with me sometime,” and he almost pulled it off.

“Actually, I—”

Ring, ring, ring, ring.

Internally cursing himself, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and saw the contact Laswell flashing on his screen. Usually, when she called, it was something worth hearing. He looked up at you apologetically, but you just smiled and waved your hand at him to let him know it was okay.

Standing up, he answered Kate’s call and pressed his phone between his ear and his shoulder. You couldn’t hear much of what the other person was saying. It was mostly just John nodding his head, saying a quick “yes” or “no,” or mentioning what you assumed were his colleagues' names.

Gathering his things, he turned to you and gave an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, but I have to leave, right now. I apologize for wasting your time like this.”

“Oh, no, don’t worry! It’s nice to have seen you anyway, and I’m glad you’re doing well. I don’t mind, honestly,” you reassured him, secretly disappointed at the fact that his visit was so short-lived.

Clearing his throat, he asked, “If it's not too out of line, may I ask when you get off work?”

Throwing all caution to the wind, you quickly answered, “At about ten thirty.”

“Ten thirty, all right,” he said (more so to himself than you). “Have a good rest of your shift, sweetheart.”

“Thank you, I hope all is well at work,” you nodded, watching as his eyes lingered on your for a moment before he left for the door.

The entire time he was back at work the thought of you sat in the back of his mind. Honestly, he couldn’t even remember why he was there. Something about an important lead? Or maybe a new contact? Honestly, his head was in the clouds.

Even though you didn’t know he was going to ask you out, he still felt guilty for not being able to pop the question to you. As soon as he left the meeting, he was out the door. It was already ten, and it took about twenty-five minutes to get to the restaurant. He silently cursed himself for the second time that day, still determined to get in his car and see if, by some miracle, he could catch you.

He had imagined himself in the exact opposite situation he was currently in. He had wanted to be out of uniform in something more presentable and approachable, being able to spend his time with you without any interruptions. Now, he was having to rush his pace with his uniform on as he attempted to make up for his first failed attempt at asking you out. He didn’t want to be the captain with you, just John Price. 

Peeking into the front door of the now-closed restaurant, he scanned the few workers left inside to see if any of them were you only to be met with disappointment. His frustrated grew ten-fold as he turned away from the door, making his way back to his car.

Just as he was about to hop in, you were exiting the side door with your uniform in hand.

“John?” you called out, stopping just a few feet away from him. You almost didn’t recognize him with the way he was dressed (not that you were complaining).

He whirled around instantly at the sound of your voice. “(Y/n),” he started. “I almost thought I missed you.” You smiled. “No, one of my coworkers needed help with something so I stayed behind just a little bit.” “How kind of you. Most would leave as soon as they were able,” he praised, shutting his car door behind him.

“She’s always been kind to me. I figured the least I could do is repay her.” You paused. “So, uh, what brings you back here so late?”

You.

“Well, I was just…” Why was he nervous? He had asked out plenty of people before (though none quite like you). For Christ’s sake, he was a disciplined soldier capable of incredible feats without breaking a single sweat. He’s faced dangerous criminals with a calm face and a stable mind, but with you, oh, it was like everything he ever learned went out the window.

You waited expectantly with bated breath.

“Well, I was actually wondering if you would want to go out with me sometime. Anywhere you like,” he finally managed. “‘Course, feel free to say no. I promise I won’t be hurt.”

He’s lying, of course, but you didn’t need to know that.

Your face lit up at his question, answering with an immediate, “Yes, I’d love to!”

Finally, finally, he could release the breath he was holding. His shoulders visibly relaxed, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he grinned at your response.

“How do you feel about movie and a dinner?”

Maybe it didn't go exactly as he'd planned, but at least you said yes, right?

[tinylilacbun]

Littlesister!reader who keeps begging jj to get her a bunny!! But his brother always says no to her until one day him and john b offers to reader a stuffed plushie bunny and she treats it like a real bunny :(( omg

Another Version Of A Pet

Pairing: brother!jj maybank x toddler!sister!reader

Warnings: just fluff

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"Pweaseeee!" You were pulling on JJ's shirt, giving him your best puppy eyes.

You have been asking and begging him to get you a pet bunny for days now, promising to always behave and take care of it yourself but JJ of course knows better than that from experience.

"You remember bubbles the fish?" He asks and you tilt your head confused.

"You mean the one you said swam away?" You furrow your brows and JJ mentally curses at him himself for bringing it up.

"Yeah...right. Nevermind. Kiddo, listen, you're too young to take such responsibility. A bunny is a lot of work." He tries to reason with you, hell he just manages to take care of you and doesn't have the heart to tell you another lie should another animal...die from neglect.

"M'gonna take care of it! I promise!" You whine.

He sighs, running a hand through his messy hair. "I'm sorry. But it's not up for discussion."

You frown sadly, detangling your hands from his shirt. "Otay...m'gonna go play outside." You mumble, your head hanging low as you walk outside, not acknowledging John b who just came back after running some errands.

"Hey, Maybank junior. You wanna- oh okay." He cuts himself off as you just walk past him and towards the hammock.

He turns to JJ with a raise of his eyebrow. "What's up with her?"

They both look in your direction, seeing you swaying in the hammock, watching you throw your small teddy in the air and catching it again. They look back at each other, smirking when the get the same idea.

"The same thing that's been goin' on for days. She wants a pet bunny and won't stop asking." He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You remember her fish?"

John B hisses, remembering the day they had to flush him down the toilet.

A few days later, after JJ mowed a lot of lawns or fixed cars he finally had enough money for a bunny plushie. He couldn't stand to see you so upset so he hopes that at least the plushie will make you a bit happier.

He got out of the store, plastic bag in hand as he jumps into the Twinkie with John B behind the wheel. "And?"

JJ pulls out the white stuffed bunny with a smile. "I just hope she likes it..." He mumbles and John B pats his shoulder.

"I have a good feeling, bro."

You are sitting in the living room of the Chateau watching a movie with Kie and Pope. They were asked by JJ to look out for you until he comes back from the 'doctor' as he told you.

As the screen door opens you just gave the boys a quick glance before focusing back on the tv. JJ moves to stand directly in front of it, holding the bag behind his back.

"I have a surprise for you, squirt." He grins and now you were paying attention to him, sitting up.

"Me?" You point at yourself. "What is it?"

He just tosses the bag onto your lap, watching in anticipation as you look into it. His smile widens when you gasp, quickly pulling out the bunny and holding it out to admire it.

"Is a bunny!" You squeal and all the pogues smile at your excitement. You jump off the couch and run over to hug JJ's legs tightly, the bunny clutched in your hand. "Fank you..."

Throughout the next week JJ notices how you treat your stuffed animal like an actual bunny, taking it with you everywhere, feeding it, letting it 'hop' around outside, and instead of a crate it would sleep on a pillow beside the bed you're both sharing at the Chateau.

"Not for that, kiddo." He rubs your back, glad that you're beyond happy and grateful for the gift he worked his ass off for. He would do anything for you.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ♡ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

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[lilacgaby]

𝟎𝟏 | serenity

~2.3k

chapter select!

katsuki bakugo had a secret.

a secret that'd undo everything he did in his power to build. his reputation would be gone,

his ego destroyed, his life ruined.

at least in his mind.

and that was his obsession with 'serenity.'

serenity was the top manga of the year, surprisingly dominating the shoujo category along with the overall for its recent release. even beating longtime shounen manga with pure sales.

and he was a die hard fan since its creation.

he had randomly scrolled upon it on a piracy manga website, clicking on it becausethe art style was pretty, and the protagonist was even prettier.

it had spiraled from one thing to another, and before he knew it he had become such a longtime supporter, that he and the creator themselves were mutuals on twitter, with katsuki's account being among the biggest fan accounts for [name].

in his room where nobody was allowed, he had a shelf directly under allmights dedicated to the manga, and a corner just for the protagonist,

[name].

small trinkets, shitty attempts at fanart, official figures, and stickers littered the corner, with the biggest piece being a rare limited-edition figure that he was sent for being a longtime fan.

[name] was loved in both her manga and in his japan. she was written to be oblivious to just how many people at her school were enamored with her, and was even being pursued by two guys in a love triangle.

the manga was still ongoing, though talks of an anime adaptation were in place, a possible stage play (though katsuki doubted they could find a gorgeous enough actor), and lines of merch were all in the near future.

every sunday, a new volume would be released.

he shouldn't have to waste precious hours that he could spend training on walking down to the store to buy it, but he'd mistakenly made the mistake to wait for the next week and double up on manga volumes once. the entire twist was spoiled by dunce-face and racoon eyes during lunch. he had told them to shut up and avoided hearing any more spoilers from word of mouth but..

he got spoiled on twitter anyways.

so from then on, he opted to take the half-hour trip into town and get it himself.

with a black hoodie covering his face and sunglasses for his eyes, he looked suspicious. not like bakugo katsuki though so, it was good enough.

because he was going out on his own, he knew someone would be tailing him. a security measure.

he took several odd turns and confusing routes to lose them, and lose them he did.

he let out a satisfied laugh, before disappearing into a crowd.

his favorite manga store that always had every issue out on time was pretty busy, thankfully he only noticed people crowding the shounen sections.

he went up and grabbed one of the only latest issues left on the shelf. he smiled at the pretty cover art, though it just looked intimidating due to his strange appearance.

he also grabbed a blind bag, feeling around to try and make sure it wasn't the annoying love interest that he hated, who luckily had a character design with distinguishable hair.

after he was satisfied, he also grabbed a 'serenity' themed pen that had a small chibi figure of [name] on it.

he purchased it, noting how the popularity of the manga was starting to make everything more expensive.

he grumbled angrily to himself as he took a turn into an alley, the fastest way back to the main path to U-A.

a mugger jumped out from behind the trash can. "give me everything you've got kid."

bakugo's face scrunched up distastefully. "no way loser."

he clutched his manga in his hands, the blind bag and pen safely in his pocket.

he instinctually chucked the manga at the guy when the mugger suddenly jerked forward.

the man shot a ray of energy at the book, making

an almost comedic 'poof' sound came out, accompanied by a puff of smoke.

"what the-"

a girl.. not just any girl.

[name] was sitting there in the flesh, looking scared and confused as she took in the scenery around her. her eyes darted between his assaulter and him, perplexity evident in her glassy eyes.

the book was splayed out on the other side of her, the pages now fully blank.

katsuki was shocked, so shocked that he didn't even notice that his sunglasses had fallen, and that his hair was now exposed.

"oh, no shit! you're that crazy U-A kid! i'm out."

the mugger ran away as katsuki was left alone with [name].

"no way.. just-- no way."

"it can't be you!"

she slowly got up, still observing the world around them.

"where am i?"

"um.. you're. you're not in your world anymore [name]."

her face twisted in confusion. "what? what do you mean my world, and-- how do you know my name?"

"this is gonna sound crazy so, ugh..

come with me."

he held his hand out towards her, still not fully believing that this was happening right now.

as she took it, and he felt the solidity of her skin, the physicality of her body, it all set in.

the fact that her beauty was unmatched, the fact that was here, alive, speaking and--

scared.

he guided her to a bench, along the main path so they wouldn't be too far from U-A.

they were holding hands until she let go, he was glad though, because his hands were getting extremely sweaty.

he decided to just rip off the bandaid.

"this is going to be hard to hear, but you're not.. real."

"what?!" tears popped into her eyes, she was already on edge, and that was definitely not the right thing to say.

okay bad start.

"well, you are real, just not in this world. in this world you're an anime character."

"...you're not funny."

"im not joking around." he sighed and took out his phone.

he opened it to his fanpage dedicated to her, '[name]thinker.'

he clicked on the media tab and let her scroll through.

her eyes were wide as she saw scenes of her life drawn out in comic form, her friends, family, and even enemies were depicted so beautifully, and it captured all of her core memories.

"so.. you were serious."

"i am."

".. what do i do?" tears finally spilled over as she sunk into the park bench, her hands were gripping the skirt of her school uniform tightly as the fabric began to soak her tears.

"how'd i even get here?"

bakugo awkwardly stood by as she fought her tears.

"uh.. i can um- explain if you want."

she sniffled, and wiped away her tears before nodding, not trusting her voice at the moment.

"so, in this world, there are like-- superpowers. we call them quirks."

she honestly found it hard to believe, but there really would be no other explanation for her existence right now so, she nodded along.

"like, i have the ability to made explosions from my hands because i sweat nitroglycerin. see?"

he set off tiny explosions from his hands, smirking at the way her eyes go wide.

"that's really cool.. um?"

"bakugo. katsuki bakugo."

"oh okay i'm [name], but i guess you already know that."

so, since you all have superpowers, you think that guys had a power to bring me here?"

"that's the only thing it could've been, really. unless something odd happened to you?"

"no, i was just walking to school when i passed out suddenly."

"[name], i think you should come with me."

"okay. where to?"

"my school."

"why would we go to school?"

he gently grabbed her hand and internally fanboyed as they started walking towards U-A.

"we have dorms there, i need to talk to my teacher in the morning, so you can stay with me tonight."

"why would your teacher be able to help? is this a superhero school or something?" she joked.

"yes, it is."

"oh...

your world is kinda weird."

"yeah."

he resisted the urge to question her thoughts about scenes that he thought were very impactful, and instead explained the simplicities of his world to her. things like the hero system, quirk prejudice, rankings, and specialty schools like U-A.

"so, are you any good then?" she asked, genuinely.

if it was anyone else he would've flipped out, but instead he just answered. "yeah, i know so. some may say im the next number one."

"who's some?"

"me."

"oh? i'll have to see you fight then."

they finally made it to U-A, but now came the issue of sneaking [name] in.

"this is a pretty fancy school."

"it's the number one hero school in the country."

"seriously? wow, cool."

"yeah but, we're not really supposed to bring anyone in so..

stay here for a second."

"um, okay."

bakugo went inside, it was still early afternoon, so everyone was out.

more importantly, iida was out. nobody else would snitch if they saw her so.

"coast is clear, come on." he yelled at her.

"got it!"

he shielded her from view as he walked her up to his dorm. before she could go in, he covered the corner of her memorabilia with a random box he had laying around.

"um.. make yourself comfortable [name]."

"thanks bakugo." she said, sitting down on his bed.

once he got over the surrealness of her actually being in his room, he choked out

"katsuki."

"what?"

"call me katsuki, it's only fair."

"hm. okay, thank you katsuki."

his heart did somersaults, she didn't have an official voice actor because none of the characters from her anime were confirmed yet,

but her voice was better than the one he had in his head.

"yeah um.. no problem. by the way, uh.. my teacher is off duty today so we'll have to wait for tomorrow to see what's up."

"oh, i see.

so, if im really an anime character, how am i supposed to like-- even walk out this room?"

"what do you mean?"

"unless im super unpopular, aren't people gonna notice?"

oh, she was right. she looked like she was pulled right out of the papers, because she was, and people would have to question her about it eventually.

"well, you are like really popular. your manga is literally fucking number one everywhere right now."

"really? yes!" she fist-pumped in happiness. hey, if she was gonna be an anime character she might as well be a popular one.

"so, i guess you'd have to say you're a cosplayer, that the author based the character of you, or something. if people knew you were the actual [name].."

"they just wouldn't believe it right?"

"well i mean.. in this world everything is pretty plausible."

"i guess."

she laid back in his bed, staring around his room. there were a couple of posters hanging around of a strange man with a pearly white smile. there was figures and even.. a book about him on the shelf.

"uh.. who's that?" she said, as she pointed to the largest photo with the strange man posing in the middle, 'I AM HERE' in bold, bright yellow letters as he stood proudly.

"oh him? that's all might. he's the best hero in existence, the world will never have another hero like him.

at least until i graduate." he said, nonchalantly leaning into the back of his chair.

"ah, that's really cool katsuki! so even in this hero school you're unmatched? are other quirks significantly weaker than yours?"

"it's not that i'm unmatched, it's that im destined to be at the top. even if someone managed to have a stronger quirk than me, id still be the best."

she let out a soft 'oh' as she got up. "you have anything fun to do?"

he thought about it for a second. in the manga she really liked puzzles so..

"got it, i'll be right back."

he darted out the room, leaving her alone.

he knocked on midoriya's door before barging in, midoriya taking notes at his desk.

"ah- kacchan? what do you need--"

"borrowing this." katsuki walked straight into the room, grabbed a five-hundred piece allmight puzzle, and turned to walk out.

"be careful with that! it's gold edition!"

"got it, deku."

he stormed back to his room, closed the door behind him, and handed [name] the puzzle.

"this should keep you busy. it's double-sided. also don't fuck it up, it's important to some idiot."

"uh, okay. thanks katsuki."

she spent the day completing one side of the puzzle, katsuki helping a bit occasionally as he viewed the manga leaks on twitter, since his version of the new issue of the manga was now fully blank.

he handed her clothes to sleep in, after changing she came out in his signature skull t-shirt and basketball shorts that did not fit her style

at all.

he stifled a laugh at the sight.

"what are you laughing at?"

"nothing, just go to bed loser."

"whatever." she laid on the far side of the bed, closest to the wall.

"uh.. there's no other place to sleep so, i'll just stay over here."

"okay."

he shoved a blanket down the middle of the bed, laying down right after.

"g'night katsuki." she said, already half-asleep.

"good night [name]."

he couldn't fall asleep for a little while. the character that plagued his dreams was now physically next to him, in his own bed.

the feeling of her body flipping around and grabbing at him pulled him out of his thoughts completely, leaving him speechless.

still not believing this was real, he held her closely, not wanting his 'dream' to end.

| next!

[ford-pines-lover]

Tolerate it

when you were out building other worlds, where was I?

Here is this one!! @chillinglyadventurous

Tags: SFW, falling out of love, i actually think this is sad

I greet you with a battle hero's welcome

There was nothing better than going to the shack after a shopping trip with Mabel. She strides inside the house with her millions of bags. It was like she was gleaming with the dust of a million stars. There was nothing that could hurt her or stop her from her excitement. 

When you two walked inside the shack, everything was in its place. It seemed as if nothing was touched. Made sense; Dipper was out with Stan doing some grunkle, nephew bonding, and Ford? Well, he hasn’t seen the light of day in a week. It was starting to worry you. Usually he at least makes an effort to come see you before bed or come up for dinner, but lately it hasn’t even been anything. Long nights waiting and hoping that your boyfriend would come and sleep next to you. Waiting to feel another person next to you was excruciating. 

You got snapped out of your thoughts when you heard Mabel say, “That was so fun, y/n! Thank you for taking me!” She gives you a hug and runs off to the attic to drop off her stuff. She was like a younger sister to you. Maybe even a daughter in some sense? Your own feelings were conflicted. 

You walk down to the lab to see your boyfriend. He was slouched over his desk, papers everywhere. He was drowning in his work. You surmise that he had just found a new discovery. Perhaps a new equation or a new creature found here in the Falls. You knew that just recently Ford had gone deeper in the woods than he had ever felt comfortable. Unsurprisingly, he took Dipper with him. They came home with cuts and bruises. Neither of them unscathed.

“Dear, I’m fine,” he had said.

So you believed him. 

“Hey, love.” You walk up to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. He doesn’t move, still surrounded by the pages and pages of math and science. You knew you had an affinity toward the man, but sometimes you couldn’t pinpoint why. He wasn’t involved in your relationship often; he never came to bed; hell, you can’t remember the last time you two had sex!

I take your indiscretions all in good fun

It took him a bit to notice you. 

“Hello, my dear.” He turned to look at you. His chair squeaking as he moved as if he hadn’t moved in hours. “You look like you haven’t slept in days.”

You give him an incredulous look. Actually, you hadn’t slept in days. Ford had been so engulfed in his work that he hadn’t gone to bed with you in days. He sleeps on his desk, waiting for some sort of answer to just pop out of his work. You press your lips together, not wanting to disturb the peace. Deciding to keep your mouth shut about your feelings, you say, “Yeah, it’s been a rough couple nights, but I’ve been okay.” You turn around to leave, “There will be dinner in about an hour if you’re hungry.”

“Thanks, but no thanks,”

“If that’s what you wish.” You tearfully look away and walk back upstairs. Your movements were saturnine. Everything hurt; nothing felt real. The love you had once in the past almost feels obsolete now. There was almost a remorseful feeling inside you for him. He has gone through so much; you should just let him be. But if your needs weren't being met, why should you stay?

I sit and listеn

As you set up your new art station that you had bought at the store, you open the paints. They were an expensive set of oil paints that you were so desperate to try out. Painting wasn’t a new hobby, just one that had gone dormant over the last couple years. Now that you have a rather inadequate boyfriend, you were ready to take on this hobby once again. 

“Hey, kid.” You see Stan approach you with a weary look on his face. He must have just gotten back with Dipper, but you hadn’t seen Dipper yet. “I know that you and Ford are going through hard times right now." He leans on the doorframe with a phlegmatic disposition. “Just know that he does still love you and is just having a hard time. Just give him some time, kid. He’ll come around.”

“Stan, I don’t know how much longer I can wait.” You said with an indigent look across your face. “I love him, but I can’t feel so empty anymore.”

“Look, kid, I can talk to him for you if you’d like. He’d better listen to me. I wouldn’t want to lose a family member over some stupid math equations.” He sighs. "You know how he’s an opportunist. He knows what he wants, and he takes it.”

“Please talk to him for me; he doesn’t seem to listen to me.” You gulp. “I know how he is. I just want my Stanford back.” 

“I’ll be back, then. Hang tight.”

You watch as he goes out of the room. You were stationed in the kitchen with your supplies, so it was easy access to the lab from there. Your mind starts to wander. What if you really were just a bother and in the way? What if there was really nothing there? 

You take a deep breath and lather a thin coat of white paint on the canvas. You weren’t quite sure what would come of this painting, but you knew you were emotional, and this was one healthy way to get it out. At least that's what your therapist had said at one point. Instead of taking it out on other people, taking it out of a piece of canvas was healthier. Or something. 

You started with hues of grey and blue. For some reason there was something compelling you to use those colors. Maybe they stated how you felt. Grey and empty. Blue and sad. Or maybe you just liked them. 

Below you, you could hear fighting. It was the two men that you had trusted more than anything in the world. You couldn’t quite make out what they were yelling to each other. It was loud. It shook the house. There was a negative tone flowing through the shack. It was dizzying.

“C’mon Poindexter… shes… kid! Don't…care... her?” You heard most of Stan’s words. But what hurt the most is what his brother said after. 

“Yes, I care, Stanley! It’s all just become too much, and my work is far too important! I don't understand why none of you can see that!” You heard that one clear as day. It was perfectly clear why he didn’t want to see you. You were too much. 

“Why the fuck would you say that?” You could hear Stan getting louder with each word. “At least talk to her! Have dinner with her. Once. Before you decide to throw this away.” He had an ardent tone. 

“What are you trying to imply?”

“That you’re being a selfish idiot and throwing away the best thing that’s ever happened to you!”

I polish plates until they gleam and glistеn

You got up from your spot at the table. Your mind is whizzing and whirring from the fighting in the basement. You try to think of something, anything, to keep your mind off of what Ford had just said. Too Much? You walk over to the sink and start doing the dishes. You were staring off, out the window, trying not to completely break apart. 

Was Stan talking to Ford a good idea? Or did it really cause more issues than what was worth? Maybe Ford is just saying shit because he’s sleep deprived. He does tend to get more annoyed than usual when he hasn’t had a good rest. Doesn’t everyone?

“Hey, y/n. Everything good?” You jump, seeing Dipper behind you. When did you start crying?

You wipe your face with your sleeve and put on a fake smile. He definitely could tell. “Yeah, why what’s up?” 

“I’m not stupid, y/n. I hear Grunkle Stan and Ford fighting.” He gave you a judgmental look. You knew he wasn’t stupid, but it wasn't fair that he had to listen to his Grunkles fighting. 

“I know you’re not stupid. I’m genuinely okay; I am just a little overwhelmed.” You took in a deep breath. Everything was going to be okay.

He gently nods and walks away.

You're so much older and wiser, and I

You think about the age gap between you two while you sit down to continue to paint again. The age gap was significant enough that you were 30 years younger than him. It was hard for him, yet it seemed like he thoroughly enjoyed the relationship. 

You two had met at the library while checking out a book. Then on from there, Ford invited you to go on adventures with him and invited you to play D, D, and more D with him. You two were really bonding. Giggling and blushing as your two characters in the RPG were flirting and Dipper being grossed out the whole time. Mabel was way too excited about her Grunkle’s newfound crush. 

Then you lost your house. The landlord decided that he wasn’t going to rent out his house anymore, and it left you homeless. You couldn’t afford to just move spontaneously. This had left you to live out of your car for about a week. It was horrible. Worse than you had originally imagined. It was overcrowded, messy, and humiliating. 

The Pines family had heard what happened. Stan was the first to offer you a room to stay in. 

“Kid, times are tough. I know what it’s like to be homeless. So I’m offering you a space, free of charge.”

“Are you sure?”  You had said, worried about overstepping bounds.

“I wouldn’t be offering it to ya if I wasn’t sure.”

That was that. You were now an honorary member of the Pines family. 

With that came more time spent with Stanford. This led to stolen kisses in the lab and sleepovers in your bedroom. It became routine to see him often. One day you had asked him out formally. It was just to a diner. Nothing fancy, but it meant something to you. 

After that, you and Ford were inseparable. Constantly going on adventures; hanging out. Life was great. Until now. 

Ford stands before you, arms crossed. You could tell he was upset. 

“I know I haven’t talked to you in a bit, but I would like to know if you were okay with going out for dinner.” It seemed like it took a lot out of him just to get that out. 

“Yeah, sure.” You tried to not let it be known that it upset you that he was being this way. “I think I have an idea. I’ll come grab you in thirty minutes, okay?”

“Alright.”

I wait by the door like I'm just a kid

You decide to stand in his lab doorway. He had agreed to dinner. Hopefully things will not go to shit and everything will go to plan. 

“You ready?” You held out your hand, and he hesitantly put his hand in yours. It didn’t feel right, but you kept it cool.

“Yes.” He had said rather coldly. Oh boy.

Use my best colors for your portrait

You stare at the portrait you had made as it sits in your tote bag. This was a gift to him. It was of you two stargazing. The colors were magnificent. It has ranges of blues, violets, and reds. You hoped that he would like it and see it as a means to start over. 

Maybe not.

Lay the table with the fancy shit

You led him outside to the place you had set up. It was a picnic on a hill. Just like you two had once had a date there months ago. There were plates of food, fake candles, flowers, just about anything you could imagine. 

“It looks... nice.” Ford had said as he forced a smile. 

“I’m glad you like it.” You pop open the wine bottle and pour yourself a big glass. 

Throughout the whole dinner, he was not attentive. He really was in another world. There was nothing that could make him want to be at this dinner that you had planned. Yet here he was. 

And the portrait stayed in your bag. 

And watch you tolerate it

[ajortga]

fate ties two

pairing: jenna ortega x fem reader

based off a request i got! im so grateful for one of the parts i came up with on the spot, it really made me laugh thinking about it. requests will be open soon possibly, i have a few events this week but we'll see!

-

hey! i loved your recent fic but i totally misread the synopsis. do you think you could write a fic where jenna’s actually goes on a snack run with (or without it’s up to you) her sister to get what she wants but meets femreader!?

-

“Jenna! Get off the cart! Your hair is in the way and you’re too heavy!” Aliyah groaned, pushing the shopping cart that had some cilantro, avocado, cereal, and some peppa pig action figure.

“I just think you haven’t worked out your arms.”

“Are you calling my arms big?”

“Are you calling me big?” Jenna laughed, rolling her eyes as she got off the cart, just to jump back on it again.

“Jenna Marie Ortega!”  

Aliyah eventually gave up, pushing the cart with the tiny brown-eyed girl in it as she walked to the produce section.

The short Ortega reached from the cart and grabbed a few kiwis and raspberries, letting it rest on her lap as she held it with her hands.

As the cart rolled and traveled along the store, Jenna’s eyes fell upon your figure as she was being rolled, your side profile struggling to reach up for snacks on the higher shelf. Your hair tucked behind your ear with hoop earrings on. Aliyah turned another corner before Jenna reached out to grasp her hand.

“Stop,” she says softly, her eyes not looking at her sister at all, sidetracked to the snack section, pointing. 

Aliyah groaned again, “We just bought snacks five minutes ago, why are we back here?-”

“Shh..”

Aliyah pushed the cart and she could see the way your hair slowly swept with the push of the cart. Jenna found it adorable seeing the way you made small grunts reaching up.

She didn’t want to seem weird, but it seemed as if fate tied you two together. It felt awkward to admit that she's heard of invisible string. She just saw you standing there and somehow she could admire the way you were on your tippy toes.

As you reached and made small squeaks of annoyance, you heard her voice behind you, “Do you want me to help you?”

You stopped reaching as you turned, “Please.”

Jenna smiled, and now she was just realizing she was 2 inches shorter than you. She got an idea as Aliyah held her steady on the cart, standing on the part babies were supposed to sit on as she reached for your candy, (it was sour patch kids.) 

She felt like her arm was stretching out, determined to at least impress you as she finally grasped onto the sour patch kids. 

“Aliyah, okay I’m do- Aliyah! What are you doing!”

Her sister was distracted from grabbing some freeze dried strawberries, completely forgetting about how her sister was on top of the cart as Jenna yelled at her, “Oh shoot!”

The shopping cart began to shake as Jenna lost balance, her front smacking onto the cabinets as the snacks began to fall from the sky.

The candies fell like dominos one by one, as she lost more balance and began to fall, she could see the way you were trying to catch everything that fell. You caught it one by one with swift hands and throwing it back neatly onto the shelf as you made sure she didn’t get hurt when she fell.

Her back smacked against your figure, making a small "oomph" sound as you made a small cry of surprise, your head basically hitting the floor, snacks falling down as you began to laugh. You were squished with her body on top of you, panting lightly.

Aliyah was staring at you two, seeing the way how the aisle was basically not even an aisle anymore, her mouth open.

“Jesus.”

The small brunette untangled herself from you, the candy still in her hand as she placed it in yours. You three were picking up everything that fell, Aliyah snorting in laughter, your belly shaking from laughing.

“I think I have to pay for a new shelf," Jenna grumbled embarrassingly.

You giggled, brushing your shoulders, “I think I need to get to know you.”

“Jenna,” She smiled, writing numbers quickling onto a scrap.

“Y/N,” you smiled at her, “Thanks for the sour patch I owe you.”

Jenna scoffed playfully, “Thanks for being a cushion before I fell, could’ve busted my head open.”

The brown eyed girl handed you her number as you laughed, putting it in your pocket, “That’ll make up for it.” you said, giving her a sweet smile, putting back the last dropped item on the ground, giving her a small wave as you walked away.

Jenna looked at you as you walked away, a dreamy sigh escaping her lips as she covered her mouth immediately as she heard an annoyed groan.

“Ohh, so that’s why..” Aliyah said, giving Jenna a look asking her if she was actually serious.

“Shut ‘p.”

“Don’t tell me to be quiet, you almost killed that girl because you were too busy adoring her and not thinking when you thought you’d be her knight and shining armor. You almost cracked your skull!”

“But I didn’t! And I think I got something even better in exchange,” she added, looking down at her bracelet, a small crumpled piece of paper saying

you made my day faster than anyone else did and usually that’s really rare, thanks for giving me a laugh that I actually didn’t know i needed. i appreciate it and love to get to know you more.

xx

Y/N ‪♡

+1 XXX-XXX-XXXX

"You are so strange," Aliyah said, making Jenna push her on the cart as punishment for basically being clumsy over one pretty stranger.

-

She never had sour patch kids, believe it or not, she usually just bought it for her siblings or would stash fruit like kiwi. 

But that day, she grabbed it from the same place she fell, there was a bag of it that you put away in another section and she took it home that day. But what you didn’t know, even from when you two were dating now was that because of you, sour patch kids became her new favorite candy. Maybe that’s why you loved her a lot, she had the same favorite candy as you. 

(You still didn’t know that Jenna discovered it because of you.)

[thewritingofspencerrose]

mclaren masterlist : masterlist

New Addition

Lando Norris x OC Inspired by Mclaren surprising Lando with the puppies! I've had this in the drafts for a while, but was lacking a lot of writing drive lately, so we'll see if this gets me back into the groove!

The week began as they always do when we're just beginning the summer break.

Lan and I, lazying about the condo in the morning, simply enjoying each others company, before he is called off to MTC and I hop online for my asynchronis classwork.

It's our routine that I love so much, no matter how chaotic, before we take off on whatever adventures he has planned for us for the next few weeks.

Today was different though.

I spent the morning sick as a sailor, Lan holding my hair back and wiping my forehead with a damp towel. That is, until he had to go in to the MTC for a filming session, one he had convinced the uppers to allow Max to film for a Quadrant day in the life. His hesitance was written all over his face, but with a bit of convincing and the promise that I would invite a friend over, I was able to coax him out the door.

"It sounds like you've had a long morning," Kelly sighs with a frown, sitting across from me. When I had called her up, she and P were more than happy to come keep me company. There may be nearly twelve years between us, but from the moment Max and Lando introduced the two of us, it was easy to bring Kelly into my life as the elder sister I so dearly wished for as a child. And now she's here, her daughter's head fast asleep on my lap as I card my fingers through her hair.

"It's just that I am so rarely sick that to be this sick is more annoying than anything," I try to explain, "We're supposed to leave to travel with Martin in a week and I just can't keep being ill, my least favorite thing in life is feeling like I'm not up to my usual speed."

Kelly's eyes light up a bit, glazing over in a look of recognition. "Have you had any other weird symptoms lately? Anything you should keep in mind if you call the doctor?"

"Just some extra tenderness and I've been exhausted, but it's been a long few weeks with the double header and triple header nearly back to back," Its an explanation, one all of the girlfriends have discussed while sipping drinks over the weekends away.

The older of the two can't help but smile, "Dahlia, how about we run to the corner store and see about a test or two?"

A test? A test!

Oh my God.

"Baby? It's me!" Lan's smooth voice follows click of the door. He's always so loud while out and about, but home, with me, he's so soft.

It's why he's so good with kids at the track.

With Leo and Roscoe and Simba.

With me.

"In the kitchen, love!" In the kitchen with a bag that will change everything.

And there's a yip. A tiny little bark that has my brows furrowing and thoughts leaving my head.

"Lan? What was that noise?" Feet tapping against the ground, I can hear his approach as I step away from the cutting board, the yipping sound continuing. "Okay Lan honestly, what is that-"

It's his rounding the corner that cuts off the all the thoughts that have been spiraling through my head since Kelly, P and I took our little adventure.

He has a dog. In his arms. A little one that is squirming every which way, a collar the color of his race suit around its neck.

Lan has a hesitant smile, the same one he had when he asked me out way back when, and the same one I wasn't expecting to see today. "Surprise?"

My hands find him hips with little thought, staring him down. "Lando Norris, why do you have a dog?"

"I was hoping she could be the newest member of our family?" Oh he's in for something else in a minute or two.

She's is adorable, all happy and squirmy as she rests in whats basically the size of Lan's palm. It's why I move towards him, taking the little thing into my arms and letting her lap at me. "Where did you even find her?"

"Mclaren promo video for a shelter, I spent the morning with dogs and she just really seemed to like me! Stayed in my lap the whole time! So I couldn't just let her be taken back when I knew we could offer her a home!" He's stepping closer, breathe gently fanning over my head as he scratches the pups, his eyes meeting my own with a softness I wasn't expecting. "I know I can't commit to a real kid for a few years, but I was thinking that she could take that place in the mean time."

"About that-" I begin, knowing now is the only right time to mention it. "You know how I was throwing up all morning? And for the last few weeks?"

Theres a spark, the light recognition of an idea in his head, but all he does is nod.

"Well, I had Kelly and P over today while you were out, and we got talking as we do, and she suggested that I take a test."

"A test?" He's piecing this all together.

"A pregnancy test."

"And?" Tears are pooling in his eyes, and while we've discussed kids, we've never discussed the possibility of kids this early, while he's at the peak of his career. "You can't just leave me on a cliff hanger like that, Babe."

"What do you want the answer to be?"

"Babe," This may be the one time in Lando's life that he's stern out of bed.

"It was positive."

There's a pause, the longest of my life, if it wasn't for the fact it was only mere seconds before his arms are wrapped around me, nearly crushing the puppy between us who's only thought is to continue yipping happily. "Lan, baby, I'm going to need something verbal here."

His eyes are meeting mine again, tears trailing down his cheeks as his million dollar smile shines. His hands are still planted on my hips, keeping us close. "You could not have said anything to make me happier than I am right now," and there's so much emotion behind each and every word that I can't help but begin to cry as well. "We're having a baby!"

I can't help but giggle at his joy, "We are! And we have a puppy!"

His lips meet mine, before coming down and meeting the dogs head, nearly bouncing out of his skin. "This is perfect babe, we'll be able to train her and by the time baby Norris is born she'll be ready to be her best friend!"

"Her?"

"I'm calling it now," He states as if it's a matter of fact, curls bopping on his head as he moves. Our lips meet once more, smiles making it awkward like our teenage years, but with so much joy it feels infectious. "Oh my God I need to call Carlos!"

"You what?" There is no way Carlos is the one on his mind right now.

"I have to tell him that Pinon has a new friend! And I'm going to be a dad! He can stop making jokes about me being a child!" He may just be more enthusiastic about this than the baby or the dog. But he's Lando, and I'll give him a time for it later, because seeing him this enthusiastic is a sight too good to miss.

[the-oblivious-writer]

Let the Light In |2|

Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Chapter Two: Alamort

Summary: You've been struggling to sleep the past few weeks, a late friend of yours not leaving your mind, and on top of that you get stuck with Tara for a group project

Warning(s): Swearing, mentions of death, grief, and underage drinking

Notes: Was able to put some Sam appreciation in this chapter cause I love her sm, also I would like to clarify that in this au ghostface will not be making a return so dw worry about our girl Anika

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After a long day of work and school, you were absolutely exhausted. You needed to change before you passed out on the floor. Once you were clad in your pajamas, you collapsed onto your bed, practically melting at the feeling of your pillow against your face. You fell asleep moments later, but it was nothing to enjoy.

Your right leg bounced as you impatiently stared at your phone. You were biting your nails to the bone when your younger brother let out an aggravated huff. “Staring at your phone isn’t doing anything. You’re just making the wait feel longer,” he told you as he took the seat beside you.

You anxiously rubbed your hand up and down your thigh. “He said he’d call as soon as he took care of everything. That was fuckin' forever ago!” you snapped, getting up from where you sat. You knew what this possibly meant, but couldn’t bear to say it. 

“Fighting a serial killer isn’t a five minute type of thing. I’m sure he’s fine,” you brother tried to reassure you, but you were already pacing back and forth as terrible things flooded your mind. 

Just earlier, Dewey called you and explained he was headed to the hospital to handle a Ghostface issue. He also said that if he got back, the first thing he would do is call you. If? Surely he knew you were smart enough to detect that ‘if’ he snuck in. The whole way over to the hospital, he talked to you and your little brother over the phone. The whole conversation gave a gnawing feeling in your stomach. It sounded like he was saying his last goodbyes. You didn’t even have a chance to reply when he told you, “I love you, kid,” before he hung up the phone.

You were planning on going to the hospital yourself. No way was that going to be the last words Dewey would tell you, not if you could do anything about it. Especially not after the way you left things. But your brother refused, blocking the door off when you got up to leave. He didn’t want you going down the same path family have gone down in the past. 

You found out an hour later. You froze for a good minute when you heard the first responder speak. A part of you knew what was in store when you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket. After snapping out of it, you looked at your brother—there was no time for wallowing. You grabbed him and rushed down to the hospital. You thought you were numb before, but you had no idea what numbness was until you saw Dewey’s lifeless, blood stained, body being covered by a black tarp. 

I should’ve been there… I should’ve been there…

From the corner of your eye, you saw how your brother's eyes never pulled from the tarp that covered Dewey before he broke out into sobs. You immediately wrapped an arm around him as he sobbed into your shoulder.

As numbness enveloped you, you thought back to just an hour ago; Dewey was being gutted in cold blood while you were safe and sound in his trailer. 

You should have been there.

You jolted awake, your head was throbbing, and you were drenched in sweat. You quickly sat up, your breathing rapid, while you rubbed your eyes. Your eyes then frantically looked around your dark surroundings; you were no longer in Woodsboro. You were in New York, inside your apartment, sitting on your bed. 

Damnit. 

You have been having the same dream—well, nightmare, for the last few weeks. It was the same one you had even months after Dewey passed, but they weren’t as consistent come June. At least, that’s what you thought. Your mind was refusing to let you forget that wretched day, the day you just sat around as the man you looked up to as a father was taken from you.

—

You were drained. As a result of being met with the same horrible memory each night for the past couple weeks, you were getting at most two hours of sleep a night. As the anniversary of Dewey’s death inched closer, your nightmares worsened. 

Now it was 5 a.m, and there was still much time to pass before class began. You showered to wash off all the sweat from tossing and turning, and by the time you finished getting ready, it was only 6 a.m. You spent the rest of your morning watching sitcoms while enjoying a bowl of cereal at the front of the television.

You eventually left, off to your first class of the day. You loved history class, but unfortunately, your desk mate didn’t take the class as seriously. 

No matter how many seats were vacant that day, Tara always chose to sit beside you. You knew she was doing it solely to piss you off. The other day you fell asleep during class and woke up with your shoelaces tied together. If you weren’t so tired, you would have countered with something like you would have in high school. You nearly smiled while thinking back to the pranks you pulled on each other.

Once you arrived at class, you sat down and immediately put your head down. You would have fallen asleep right then and there if it wasn’t for the loud thud by your head. You looked and saw that Tara slammed down one of her books before sitting down. 

The action made you lift your head while you rubbed your eyes. “And a good morning to you, Carpenter,” you said in a tired, yet sarcastic, voice. You were still rubbing your eyes, maybe you could rub away the exhaustion.

“You look like shit,” she remarked while putting down her bag.

“Hm? I zoned out—the stripes on that shirt are blinding.”

The rest of the class went on like that; Tara making comments and you returning them. It really wasn’t so different from Woodsboro, always picking fights and at each other’s throats. But if you had to be honest with yourself, you didn’t mind the distraction. It was nice. Tara Carpenter was good for something, not that you would ever tell her that. At least not without making her work for it. 

As you were writing something down, a crumpled up piece of paper hit the side of your face. You glanced over to scowl at Tara before opening up the paper.  

I need to copy your notes, read the note. This made you roll your eyes before looking at Tara again. She was looking up ahead, seemingly ignoring you. You looked back down at the paper, writing your reply. You threw it back to her before returning to your notebook.

Why can’t you just write them yourself? 

Tara exhaled with annoyance as she aggressively wrote again on the paper and chucked it at you. It hit your forehead, causing you to grumble as you read over the paper.

he talks way too fast I can barely understand what he’s saying!!!

You sighed, rubbing your temples. Your sleep deprivation was beginning to catch up. 

“After class,” you mumbled in defeat.

Tara smiled as she looked back ahead, but her victory was short lived as she started drowning in her own thoughts. 

Giving up so easily wasn’t like you at all, you usually gave up more of a fight. She had noticed your drained expression when she walked in… but she decided not to dwell on it. This was you after all. She has already established countless times how hard you are to read. 

Just enjoy the win, she told herself.

—

After you got through all your classes, you made it back to your apartment in one piece. You felt your eyelids grow heavier as you fumbled for your keys. You eventually inserted your key and unlocked the door to your apartment, barely feeling your legs as you walked inside with a foggy brain. You nearly knocked over a lamp on your way in. Anika was quick to notice this and rushed over to you.

“When was the last time you slept?”

You mumbled something she didn’t pick up before landing on the couch. You let out a long sigh, putting your hand over your eyes to block out the light directly above you. 

“This micro-sleeping crap you’ve been doing is clearly shit,” she said as she put a couple pillows behind you.

“I’m fine,” you murmured the blatant lie. 

She ignored this. “I’m gonna heat up some chicken soup,” she told you before going off to the kitchen. Anika has noticed how you have been growing more and more tired the last couple weeks. She was worried about her roommate but also knew you were too stubborn to ask or accept help. 

A few minutes later, Anika returned with a steaming bowl and some toast. Instead of sitting up and accepting the food she made you, you only whined. Anika narrowed her eyes at you before tossing a piece of toast at you. The glare you sent her didn’t faze her as she pushed the coffee table closer to you.

“You’re eating. No complaints. You can’t just live off of cereal and ramen.”

You reluctantly picked up the toast that hit your face, taking a tiny bite. “Whatever,” you mumbled between chewing. 

Anika just rolled her eyes and brought you a water bottle from the fridge, choosing not to argue any further. At least you were eating now.  Once you switched over to the soup, Anika sat down on the seat across from you. “What’s been going on with you? And don’t say ‘nothing’ because it’s obviously something.”

You stared at your soup, swirling the spoon around. “I don’t feel like talking about it,” you answered honestly.

Anika nodded in understanding. “That’s okay—just know that I’m here if you do feel like talking at some point,” she reassured. You subtly nod, still unable to look up from your soup. Anika accepted your response, getting up and walking to her room.

You stayed there for another hour or so, alone with your thoughts. Each one gnawed at you, screaming the same thing over and over again.

You should have been there.

—

It was another day in history class with Tara. She made a face at you for a comment you made, and just as she was about to say something back, the words ‘group project’ left the mouth of your professor. ‘Pair up in twos’ quickly followed. You gave each other a look before looking around and seeing everyone else already pairing away with someone. 

That was the story of how you ended up at the Carpenter-Bailey residence. You tried to approach your professor about working alone but he only shook his head and told you it was not an option. 

You sat down on their couch, your eyes curiously wandering, as you waited for Tara to return from whatever it was she was doing. She finally came back into view and you anxiously scrambled for your backpack. “Finally,” you said.

“Still as patient as ever.” She sat down a couple cushions over.

“Whatever. I just wanna get this over with.”

“Did you just slip the title of your sex tape?” she teased.

You gave her an unimpressed look, about to respond, but the front door to the apartment opening stopped you. You looked over to see Tara’s sister walking in with at least four bags that were full of what you assumed were groceries. 

Sam adjusted the bags in her arms, finally looking up to address her sister. She wasn’t expecting to also see you sitting on the couch; she opened her mouth to say something but the words escaped her when two of the bags slipped from her arms. Without thinking, you get up from your seat to help the other Carpenter. This doesn’t go unnoticed by Tara as she stares at the sight. 

Sam mumbled a ‘thank you’ after you both placed all the bags down on the coffee table.

“No problem,” you quietly said back. Your hands slipped themselves into your pockets. 

Sam cleared her throat as you made the short distance to your previous seat. “Tara, you didn’t tell me you were having someone over,” she said after turning to look at her little sister.

“It was last minute,” she replied. “We have a group project, and unfortunately, I somehow got stuck with her.”

Your head was down as you scribbled in your notebook, but you didn’t let your reserved demeanor stop you from commenting. “Bet you say that about every girl,” you sarcastically murmured. 

“I’d officially introduce you, but I heard you’ve already had the displeasure,” she continued.

“Yeah, we’ve briefly talked before. You can continue your project, but make sure your door stays open if you two move to your room—”

Tara’s eyes widened. “—Okay! Thank you, Sam! It’s—you don’t need to worry about that,” she exclaimed as she blushed.

You were now looking up from your notebook, blinking; your eyes shifted back and forth between the sisters. 

“I still want it open,” Sam insisted through Tara’s flustered demeanor; the older Carpenter had skepticism written on her face. 

“Okay, okay—I got it,” Tara quickly answered.

After finally dropping the topic, Sam left to store away the groceries she brought in. Just seconds later, you found yourself trying to fight an amused expression, leaving you with a downward smile.

“Shut up,” you heard Tara say beside you. 

“Didn’t say anything,” you replied before a chuckle escapes you. 

She elbowed you. “Let’s just start—unless you plan on flirting with my sister anymore,” she added with a bitter tone.

Her comment caught you off guard, etching a lost expression on your face. “What?”

Your clueless attitude only further annoyed her. “I wasn’t born yesterday; obviously you like her. She’s my sister, asshole, that’s so gross.” 

She thought you liked Sam. But why? Sure, you noticed how she was tall, beautiful, had a strong jawline, and her arms—wait, where was this going? Right, you were not romantically attracted to her.

“I don’t like your sister like that,” you told her but she refused to look at you. It seemed she found the pages of her textbook far more interesting.

“Can we just start? You were the one who wanted to get this over with.”

“Whatever.”

You two argued the entire time over ridiculous things while chucking notes at each other as you both would do during class. Tara grew bored after two hours, deciding to make it your problem. You were jotting something down when you heard the dramatic huff she let out. 

“Yes, princess?” you asked, still writing.

“How are you not the least bit tired or bored?” she whined whilst leaning back on the couch. 

You sighed before answering, “I’m always tired, but bored? It’s history. I’m not bored.”

“You always were such a history geek. What was that thing you always said? Learn by making history or something?”

You finally stopped writing, putting down your pencil, exhaling. “‘Those that fail to learn from history are doomed to repeat it,’” you quoted with a matter-of-fact tone. You finally looked back at Tara to see the smirk she wore. 

She got just what she wanted.

Tara has always liked seeing you worked up, but specifically when it came to things you were passionate about. There were times she would even purposely miss quote a line from your favorite show or write with horrible grammar just to get a reaction from you.

You would scrunch your eyebrows and get all grumpy, you even wore a subtle frown she always made sure to look out for; you mainly reacted this way because you knew she solely did these things to tick you off. You wore the same expression now as you did then, this thought made Tara smile. 

“I can tell you’re enjoying this,” you state as you turn back to your writing.

“Oh, very much.” As you were turned away from the girl, focusing on whatever is you were writing, Tara stared at your side profile. She looked at the way your eyebrows were still slightly scrunched as you clenched your jaw in concentration.

“You’re not gonna get much done if all you do is stare at me,” you said without looking to meet her gaze.

This caught Tara off guard, causing her to falter a bit as she blinked at you. “Well—well, your face is dumb, and—and I’m going to the kitchen,” she stammered while lifting herself from her seat, nearly tripping over her foot as she did so. “Oh! And I’m not getting you anything,” she made sure to add before you could say anything. 

As she walked away, you called out to her. “That’ll show me!” 

—

It was now 10:30 p.m, you and Tara were almost done with the project. For once, you two agreed on something, and decided to finish it up another time and call it a night. 

You let out a tired sight, closing up your books before putting them in your bag. Sam walked into the living room, noticing you packing, when a thought occurred.

“I just ordered a pizza, and I was wondering if you would like to stay for dinner, Y/N,” she said, catching both you and Tara by surprise.

The unopened bottle of water that has been sitting near you for hours was quickly noted by Sam.

“She’s goo—” Tara began, but you cut her off.

“—Sure. If it’s not a bother to you.”

Oh, this was going to piss Tara off so much.

“Not at all,” Sam answered, ignoring Tara mumbling from her seat.

“Thank you,” you said with a small, but polite, smile.

As soon as Sam walked away, you were hit with a pillow. “Um, ouch?” you complained with sass.

“Cry me a fucking river—you’re just staying to piss me off!” she accused whilst glaring at you.

“Self-absorbed much?” you patronized, feigning an incredulous look.

You two stared at each other, narrowing your eyes at one another. She leaned in before saying, “You are insufferable.”

You let a couple seconds pass before leaning in yourself. Your faces were now just a few inches away as you said, “And you’re infuriating.”  

Then the doorbell rings, Tara shoves you back before running to answer it. Sam came out of her room just as Tara came back in with the box of pizza along with a plastic bag. You timidly followed behind them, arms at your side as you walked, before you sat down.

After five minutes of silence, Sam attempts to make conversation. “So, Y/N,” she began. 

You softly hummed, looking up from your hardly touched slice. 

“How’s college going?” she inquired.

“It’s… going,” you said before awkwardly clearing your throat. “Yeah.” You continued to pick at your slice’s crust.

She nodded, accepting your answer, before continuing. “You and Tara have history together, right?”

“Unfortunately,” Tara said before you could. 

“She’s a peach,” you snarked while giving the younger Carpenter a wry smile. 

Things quickly grew silent again. It was awkward… at least it was for Sam. You and Tara sending each other glares from across the table certainly wasn’t easing the tension. To be honest, Sam didn’t know how to cope. She knew you and Tara hated each other for reasons she still didn’t know, but she also knew you weren’t a terrible person who has been through… a lot. If you truly did something inhumanly horrible to Tara, her little sister wouldn’t keep you in her life. So, Sam knew she had to be the bigger person by being at least decent to you.

Your eyes fell to your watch before you spoke. “I should get going, it’s late,” you said while getting up from your chair, putting down your napkin as you did so. “Thank you so much for dinner, Sam.”

“Of course,” she replied and gave you a courtesy smile 

Tara turned to scold Sam the moment you left their apartment. “What the hell, Sam?!” she whined.

Sam pinched the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes, as she sighed. “Tara—”

“—You seriously just welcomed the most insufferable person ever to dinner!” she huffed with a pout on her face

Sam rolled her eyes, shaking her head. “You’re such a baby sometimes, Tar,” Sam said before getting up to wrap up the leftovers. 

As she made her trip to the kitchen, this left Tara alone, pouting to herself. “I’m not a baby…” she mumbled to herself, both arms and legs crossed as she slumped in her chair. 

“She’s just an ass.”

—

“Where are you going?” your roommate asked as she watched you search for your keys.

“Out.”

Anika rolled her eyes at your curt response. “Obviously. But where? It’s a Saturday; you should be taking advantage of that, and try to get some sleep,” she told you.

“I’m fine. I had some coffee,” you found your keys on the kitchen counter and grabbed them, “Henry and I are just gonna hang out. You can come, if you want. You know Henry doesn’t mind.”

“No, it’s okay, I’m good. I have plans tonight,” she said. She knew there was no making you budge, no matter what she said. “But if anything happens, call, okay?”

“Mhm, ‘course,” you dismissively answered as you walked out the door.

It was meant to be a chill night with Henry, one that consisted of video games, food and drinks, at least according to Henry. When you walked in, his apartment was packed with bodies. The music was booming, you would be shocked if an eardrum didn’t burst, and everyone was either knocking into someone or something.

Nope. Nope, nope, nope. Nope! 

With one last shake of your head, you turned around, more than ready to leave, but a pair of hands gently turned you around. You now faced Henry, who could tell you were not at all pleased right now.

“Just hear me out!” he shouted over the booming music.

“How can I with this music blasting?!” You couldn’t even hear yourself think. Ugh, you just wanted to rip your ears off and curl up in a corner. “What happened to it just being us?!”

“Jason’s apartment flooded, I had to take over!” he defended. He saw you were still wearing a pissed off expression. “I’m sorry! This was a last minute thing—but I’ll make it up to you! Promise!”

Henry managed to convince you to stay by bribing you with Super Smash Bros and a quiet room for you to play it in. That’s how you ended up in his room, away from everyone else, as you played on his Nintendo.

You were in the middle of handing Link his ass when the door abruptly opened. You glanced up from your screen and saw Tara flipping someone off before turning to you. “Don’t,” was all she said as she shut the door; she then collapsed on the bed, not far away from your feet.

“Wasn’t gonna,” you said while looking back at the Nintendo.

“Just did,” she said in a muffled tone; she was laying face down.

“Long night already, princess?” you continued, ignoring her request.

She sat and held herself up by her arms. “Why do you care enough to ask?” She narrowed her eyes at you but you just gave her a small shrug before speaking again.

“I don’t… Curious is all.”

She crawled over to sit beside you, her back now leaned against the bed’s headboard. When she started to toy with her fingers, your eyes fell to her hands for a moment; the scar on her left hand didn’t go unnoticed by you.

“What?” she asked with agitation.

“Nothing,” you mumbled, fiddling with the buttons on the Nintendo in a lame attempt to hide your suddenly bashful demeanor.

Tara looked to the side, her face scrunching slightly, as if scolding her herself. “Um… Sam told me about what day’s coming up,” she cautiously began.

Her words made you freeze, your fingers stilling. If there was anyone who wouldn’t bring it up, you thought it would at least be her, that maybe your feud with the Carpenter would come in handy just this once. 

“If you, like, need anything or whatever, you can talk to me about it. I know not a lot of people have experienced what we have,” she said in an uncharacteristically sympathetic voice.

You couldn’t look at her, staring down at the device in your lap. You hated it when people tried to comfort you, when people pitied you in any way, shape or form. You despised feeling like a victim. 

“Can you stop?”

Your question made Tara confused as she furrowed her eyebrows. “Stop what?”

“Stop being so—nice to me. It’s weird, and unnatural. I don’t know how to feel,” you confessed.

“Would you prefer me to verbally harass you? ‘Cause I’ll gladly do so,” she said with seriousness in her voice. Here she was, trying to be remotely nice to you, and you of course had to be you.

“There’s my girl,” you teasingly said. You reached up and pinched her cheek, but she swatted your hand away with a chuckle.

“You’re an idiot,” she said.

“Seriously though, stop with all the cheesiness,” you continued; Tara scoffed at your insistence.

“It’s not my fault emotions make you uncomfortable,” she responded without hesitation. 

Now it was your turn to scoff. “That’s… not entirely true,” you said while slightly shaking your head.

Tara realized this was the most she was going to get out of you when it came to addressing anything she said before. She wasn’t going to get anything direct from you, not even a simple ‘okay,’ and that was fine. Sam told her she should try to talk to you about it, and she did try. 

A pillow flew to your face. “Oh, real mature. Second time in a row,” you remarked before throwing the pillow back to her. “Every time your guard is down while we’re near a pillow? I’ll remember this, Carpenter. I’ll remember this.” 

“I’m shaking in boots,” she joked while shaking her hands.

“You’ll see,” you said as you rose from the bed.

Tara raised her eyebrows. “Where are you going?” she asked.

“Miss me already?” you teased while smirking.

She rolled eyes, pretending to gag. “You couldn’t leave this room soon enough.” 

You now stood at the door. “What would you do without me?” 

“Celebrate.”

“Would that be before or after the mourning period?”

She threw another pillow at you. “Get out!” she yelled; she tried to fight back her laughter. Geez, I’m… tipsy, Tara thought to herself.

“As you wish,” you chuckled before leaving the room.

Tara was now alone with her thoughts; she let out a deep sigh as she laid on the bed. “Idiot…” she murmured to herself. But something just felt… different this time, about her idiot. You were still an asshole, that she had to remind herself. Even if you were undeniably cute.

Oh.

She didn’t know where the last thought came from, but she’ll keep it to herself. It wouldn’t be the first time she had a thought like that about you, but each time she reminded herself of all the things you both have done and said to one another. She still found you insufferable, that was the plain truth. But that doesn’t mean she hasn’t noticed you were rather objectively attractive—objectively of course.

There was just too much she hated about you; from your conceited attitude to how much of a control freak you could be, and she hated how you could charm your way out of most situations. It may have been unbearable, but it brought her satisfaction that you couldn’t do that with her. 

You were nothing but an intolerable asshole who has always gotten on her nerves. At least, that’s what she kept repeating to herself as the last few minutes replayed in her head.

—

Monday quickly rolled by—annoyingly quick. When you arrived at class, you sat in your usual spot. You were surprised Tara made it before you but not at all surprised when you saw she was hungover. “Two nights in a row? You rebel,” you teased her; she groaned and rubbed her temples.

“You’re not helping,” she complained, putting her head down with shut eyes.

“Wasn’t trying to,” you said before taking out your notes.

Your professor walked in just a moment later, a booming voice followed him. “Let’s begin!” he exclaimed while letting out a loud clap with his hands.

The sudden loudness caused Tara to jolt with her hands flying to her ears. You laughed a little, earning you a kick to your ankle.

As class went on, you and Tara did your typical routine of shoving each other, making petty comments towards one another, and note passing. When class was over, you got up, closing your books, before making your way to meet Anika for lunch. You only made it a few feet from the classroom when you felt a light tug on the back of your shirt; you turned around and saw Tara looking up at you.

“Yes, princess?” you asked as you looked back at her. She looked pretty cute looking up at you with those big brown eyes of hers. Something you noticed over the years is that she had these puppy dog eyes without even trying. Even when she’s trying to be serious, they can’t help but stay.

“I’m free tomorrow; we can finish the project then,” she told you; she was still looking up at you with those damn eyes of hers.

You nodded. “See you then.”

“No flirting with my sister,” she sternly said with an appointed look.

“No promises,” you joked with a shrug. 

She rolled her eyes. “Ugh, you’re so gross,” she said before shoving past you and walking away.

Note to self, add ‘flirting with Sam’ on the list of things that piss off Tara.

-----------

A/N: If you'd like to get tagged in future chapters, lemme know in the comments!

(EDIT) A/N: truly a trip down memory lane

[matcha3mochi]

roommates // chapter 1

synopsis: living with your childhood friends can't be that bad, right?

various! jjk x reader

˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡˚

next

The chaos began six months ago, but in a way, it had been brewing for longer than that. Life had a funny way of throwing curveballs, and your most recent one hit harder than usual.

It all started when the company you'd been working at for the past few years—your first “real” adult job—suddenly went bankrupt. There had been warning signs, of course. Layoffs here and there, hushed conversations in the break room, an ever-increasing workload as the higher-ups scrambled to keep things afloat. But no one expected the announcement to come so suddenly.

One minute, you were mindlessly typing up reports in your tiny cubicle; the next, you were sitting in a mandatory company-wide meeting, staring blankly at the CEO as he delivered the bad news with all the enthusiasm of a man who had clearly checked out months ago.

"We regret to inform you," he had said, voice monotone, "that due to unforeseen financial difficulties, the company will be ceasing all operations immediately."

Immediately? You barely had time to process what was happening before your coworkers started packing up their desks in stunned silence. The moment you walked out of that office for the last time, you were no longer gainfully employed—and without severance, to make things worse.

The first few weeks after the bankruptcy were a blur. Your savings were quickly drying up, and the job market was ruthless. Nothing seemed to stick—no matter how many applications you sent out, you couldn't catch a break. Then, as if things weren’t bad enough, your landlord gave you notice that the building was being renovated, forcing you to move out immediately. Now you were jobless and about to be homeless.

You sighed as you pushed open the door to the convenience store where you now worked. A far cry from your corporate job, but at least it paid the bills… well, some of them. You’d been lucky to snag the position, honestly—Mai, your coworker, had been the one to suggest applying. They’d been desperate for staff, and you were desperate for anything.

Still, going from a cushy office job to stocking shelves, manning the register, and dealing with cranky customers at all hours of the day (and sometimes night) was jarring. You hadn’t exactly dreamed of a career in convenience retail, but after the whirlwind of the last few months, stability, however temporary, was a blessing.

"Hey, Y/N," Mai called from behind the counter, flashing you a grin as you entered. "Rough day already?"

"Is it that obvious?" you groaned, dropping your bag behind the register and grabbing your apron.

Mai smirked. "You've got that ‘I’ve had it with everything’ vibe. It's probably the living situation, huh?"

"You have no idea," you muttered, tying your apron and preparing yourself for the usual rush of customers.

“I went from a sleek office chair to a creaky stool behind the register. I think I need a degree in psychology to handle the late-night customers.”

Mai chuckled, nodding. “Welcome to retail! You learn to read people fast. Just last week, I had a guy try to haggle for a pack of gum like we were at a flea market.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you imagined the scene. “At least it’s not boring, right?”

“True, true! You’ll have some wild stories to tell.” Mai leaned on the counter, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Speaking of stories, have you heard about the guy who keeps coming in and trying to buy the entire stock of energy drinks? I swear, it’s like he thinks he’s prepping for a marathon.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “No way! Does he actually drink them all?”

“Who knows? But it’s hilarious watching him get all defensive when I tell him we have a limit per customer.” Mai rolled her eyes playfully. “Just the other night, he tried to convince me that he needed them for a ‘very important project.’”

“Right, because that’s a totally valid reason,” you replied with a laugh as the first wave of customers trickled in.

As you settled into a rhythm of ringing up snacks and drinks, your mind wandered to thoughts of reconnecting with your childhood friends. You hadn’t seen them in ages, and the idea of a reunion felt like a much-needed breath of fresh air. Just as you were about to ring up a customer, your phone buzzed on the counter, drawing your attention. You quickly glanced at the screen and saw a message from Geto in your childhood friend group chat.

Geto: “Anyone in Tokyo these days? I’m moving there next month.”

You stared at the message for a moment. You hadn’t known he was moving. Coincidentally, you had been planning to relocate for job opportunities, and a strange feeling crept up on you. One by one, the others replied.

Nanami: “Same here. I didn’t know you were moving, Geto.”

Toji: “In town for work. We should catch up.”

Your stomach twisted in a mixture of excitement and dread. You hadn’t seen them in months—everyone had grown distant since childhood, and while you occasionally exchanged pleasantries on birthdays or holidays, life had taken you all in different directions. When you replied, you kept it casual, not wanting to reveal just how much your life had unraveled recently.

You: “I’m also in Tokyo! Let’s meet up sometime!”

It didn’t take long for Gojo to suggest drinks. Of course he did.

The bar Gojo picked was, predictably, obnoxious. It was one of those trendy places with dim lighting and overpriced cocktails. You hadn’t been sure what to expect when you stepped inside, but the moment you spotted the familiar faces, a wave of nostalgia hit you hard.

You spotted Gojo first, waving wildly from across the room. His grin was as wide and infectious as ever, his bright white hair standing out in the dim lighting. He was wearing his usual oversized black sweater, sleeves pushed up to reveal his lean, toned arms, and his sunglasses perched atop his head as if he were making some grand fashion statement.

“Y/N!” he called, motioning you over to the booth where the others were already gathered.

You took a deep breath and approached, a mixture of excitement and apprehension swirling in your chest. Geto greeted you with his usual calm, easygoing smile, his long dark hair tied back in a loose bun, a few strands framing his face. He wore a simple, well-fitted black shirt that showed off the broadness of his shoulders and the subtle tattoos that peeked out from beneath the sleeves.

Nanami gave you a nod of acknowledgment. His blonde hair was neatly slicked back, and he wore a tailored gray suit, though the jacket was discarded to reveal his dress shirt rolled up at the sleeves. Despite the setting, he looked as though he could walk into a boardroom at any moment, his sharp features giving off an air of quiet authority.

Toji, leaning casually against the booth with his muscular arms crossed, offered a smirk that hadn’t changed in all the years you’d known him. His dark hair was tousled in that effortlessly cool way, and he was dressed in a simple black shirt that clung to his well-defined chest and arms. There was something rugged about him, a sharpness in his jawline and the way his emerald-green eyes appraised you that made it clear he was still the same cocky troublemaker you remembered.

“It’s been a while, huh?” Geto said, giving you a friendly hug as you sat down.

“Too long,” you said, hugging him briefly before taking a seat between him and Nanami. Toji was on the opposite end of the table, casually sipping a drink as he observed the group with that smirk you remembered all too well.

Nanami, ever the stoic, gave you a polite nod. “How’s everything?”

You forced a smile, not wanting to dive into the whole ‘I just lost my job and am probably going to be homeless soon’ conversation. “It’s… been better. But it’s good to see you all.”

Gojo slid a drink across the table toward you with a grin. “You look like you need this more than anyone.”

“Thanks,” you muttered, taking a sip of what you immediately recognized as something far too strong for the start of the night. Gojo always had a knack for picking the worst possible drink choices.

The first hour passed in a whirlwind of reminiscing. You laughed about old childhood memories—the ridiculous pranks Gojo used to pull, the time Geto convinced you all to sneak out to watch a horror movie, and Nanami’s early obsession with studying that kept him from joining in on most of the chaos. Toji, of course, had been the rebellious one, always dragging you into some kind of mischief.

“Remember when Y/N got stuck in that tree because she tried to follow Toji up there?” Gojo laughed, eyes glinting with mischief.

You groaned. “I was six.”

“And you were so mad at Toji for leaving you up there!” Geto added, chuckling.

Toji raised an eyebrow, a smug grin creeping onto his face. “You weren’t ready for the climb.”

“You could have helped me down!” you shot back, rolling your eyes.

Nanami shook his head. “I was the one who had to call for help. No one else seemed concerned that she was stuck up there for an hour.”

“That’s because you were the responsible one,” you teased, nudging his shoulder.

Gojo leaned in, his grin widening. “Anyway, what’s everyone up to these days? I know Nanami’s still a corporate slave, but what about the rest of you?”

Geto was the first to speak. “I’m starting a nonprofit. Trying to get things off the ground.”

That sounded about right for him—always the one to care about bigger causes. You nodded approvingly. “That’s awesome, Geto.”

Toji shrugged, leaning back in his chair. “I’m doing freelance work. You know, keeping busy.”

Gojo snorted. “Freelance work? You mean muscle-for-hire.”

“Something like that,” Toji replied with a smirk.

The conversation moved around the table, each of them sharing what they’d been up to in the years since you’d drifted apart. It felt strangely natural, like no time had passed, and yet, so much had changed.

Eventually, the spotlight turned to you.

“What about you, Y/N?” Geto asked, his gaze soft but curious. “How’s life treating you?”

“I’m... getting by,” you said vaguely, swirling your drink as you avoided eye contact. “Had some changes, but nothing I can’t handle.”

Gojo, always a little too perceptive for his own good, leaned in with a grin. “Changes, huh? Come on, you’re hiding something. Spill.”

You sighed. “Fine. My company went under, and I’ve been stuck working at a convenience store for now.”

“That sucks,” Geto said sympathetically. “Are you okay? Do you need help finding something new?”

You appreciated their concern but shrugged it off. “I’ll manage. It’s not ideal, but I’ll figure it out.”

Toji, who had been watching you closely the whole time, spoke up. “You still looking for a place to stay?”

You blinked, surprised that he knew about your housing situation. “Uh, yeah. My landlord’s renovating, so I’ve got to move out soon.”

“Why not stay with us?” Gojo blurted out, clearly not thinking it through.

Nanami’s brow furrowed immediately. “Gojo, don’t—”

“I’m serious!” Gojo interrupted, eyes bright with enthusiasm. “We’ve got space, and it’d be just like old times, right?”

You laughed, though the idea seemed ridiculous. “Are you serious? All of us, living together again? I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Geto chuckled softly. “It’d be chaotic, for sure, but it could be fun.”

“Or a disaster,” Nanami added dryly, giving Gojo a pointed look.

But the more you thought about it, the more the idea stuck. You needed a place, and as crazy as it sounded, the thought of living with them again—of being close to your childhood friends—was oddly comforting.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you found yourself nodding. “Alright. But only until I get back on my feet.”

Gojo whooped in victory, raising his glass. “To our new roommate!”

And just like that, your fate was sealed. The reunion had brought you back together, and now, you were officially moving in with the four of them. What could possibly go wrong?

[fluentmoviequoter]

Take all the time you need 💕

My idea: Deacon got a girlfriend (let’s pretend Annie isn’t there) and she is a teacher at a high school.

One today there is a shooting going down at her school and Deacon and the team don’t know if she is there or not and can’t reach her. Turns out the shooter is in her class and Deacon has somehow get her save.

I hope it makes somehow sense 😅 English isn’t my native language -🥰

Thank you for being patient and for requesting!! This makes perfect sense; no worries. I love pretending Annie doesn't exist lol. I changed this a teeny tiny bit and let the reader do a little bit of saving before Deacon saves her. I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think!🤍

Warnings: canon-typical action/danger/violence, school shooting (loosely based on 2x11), angst, fluff.

Word Count: 2.3k+ words

Picture from Pinterest

Worried for You

When Deacon Kay imagined his future, he did not picture being 30 David this far into his career, nor did he dream that he would have a girlfriend who spends her days teaching high school students. Since he met you, his life has been brighter. You make each other happy. The last year and a half of dating has been filled with late-night phone calls, weekly date nights, and more joy than you thought possible.

“Deac!” you call, jumping into his arms when he turns to greet you.

“Hey, you,” he replies, hugging you tightly. “Our table is ready if you are.”

You nod, beaming at him as you slip your hand into his. He leads you to the table, pulling your chair out before sitting across from you.

“How was your day?” you ask, ignoring the menu after all the date nights you’ve had here.

“It was pretty good, mostly training since it was quiet for once. But I’m more interested in you and your day,” Deacon responds.

“Nothing special, just teaching teenagers. Again. Tell me a story?”

Deacon sighs as you bat your eyelashes at him but begins a story anyway. “Hondo and I were paired up for a breach a few years ago, but the way the house was laid out, we weren’t going to be able to see each other for long. We didn’t know how many people were in there, so we made an inconspicuous code word to alert the other if something went wrong. Well, it should have been inconspicuous, but Hondo’s first choice was ‘mango.’ Great if you’re in a store or something, not so great in a barricaded safe house.”

You laugh with Deacon, reaching across the table to hold his hand as you ask, “Should we have a code word? We could use it when you’d rather spend time with me than Hondo.”

“So, daily?”

“Seriously, David. Can we?”

“Of course. What were you thinking?”

“It has to be something that fits into any conversation, so… tree?”

“Not bad. What if I need to know something about a tree though?”

“Like what?”

Deacon’s eyes stay on yours as he concedes, “Good point. Tree it is.”

“Do you- do you have quiet days often?”

“Depends. Some weeks are quiet, and sometimes you don’t have a quiet day for months.”

“I just- you know I worry about you, so I like hearing about quiet days.”

“Hey,” Deacon says, dipping his head to catch your eyes. “I know worrying is inevitable, and I can’t imagine what it takes to be in a relationship with me and what I do, but I promise that I will always fight to come back to you. I have a good team and we watch each other’s backs.”

You nod, but Deacon looks like he wants more.

“I know you’ll do everything you can to come back to me. And that helps a lot. Thank you, Deacon.” The moment is more serious than most of your date nights, so you add, “At least you don’t have to worry about me. I just have to deal with teenage hormones and ears that don’t work or brains that don’t comprehend.”

“That sounds much worse than what I face every day,” Deacon replies dramatically.

✯✯✯✯✯

Your students know when you’ve been on a date, you’re always in a great mood the next morning. You habitually check your phone throughout the day but smile more after a date.

“Are you ever going to tell us who the lucky guy is?” one of your students pries.

“Are you ever going to meet the rubric requirements on an assignment?” you reply sarcastically.

“Ooh,” several of the students exclaim.

“Alright, guys, let’s get started,” you begin, pausing when your phone chimes.

“You said no ringers in class,” someone laments.

You snatch your phone up at Deacon’s text tone, holding your breath while you read it. Everything is fine; he just texted about your next date night. You breathe out and smile, typing a quick reply before you turn to the board.

✯✯✯✯✯

During your third class, a distant scream is audible through the closed door. You glance at the window, unamused with and immune to teenagers and their obnoxious actions. When you hear a gunshot, your demeanor switches instantly.

“Quiet,” you snap at a girl who looks ready to scream.

Several more shots echo, so you can’t tell where they’re coming from.

“Everyone in the supply closet, take your bags with you,” you demand quietly. “It will be tight but stay down and stay quiet.”

Someone whimpers your name, and you crouch in the open doorway.

“Everything is going to be fine,” you promise before closing the door.

You slide a desk over, lining it up in front of the door in a way you hope looks like it is supposed to be there. Crouching, you walk back towards your desk, trying to avoid the windows and the glass pane in the door. The doorknob jiggles, and you rush to your desk, grabbing your phone as you fall into your chair.

“Drop the phone!” the shooter yells as he enters, leveling his gun on you.

Setting the phone down, you lock it to hide the half-typed text to Deacon. That may be the last thing he hears from you, so you’re glad you started by telling him you love him. You raise your hands and look at the crazed gunman before you.

“Just stay calm okay, this doesn’t have to be like this,” you say gently.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Let’s roll, 20 David!” Hicks yells as he enters the common area. “School shooting going down and we have to get in there now.”

“Confirmed casualties?” Hondo asks.

“Do we know who the shooter is?” Deacon adds.

Hicks takes a deep breath and turns toward the team as he tells them the name of the school. “Casualties unknown and no confirmed ID, but two possibilities. I’m sorry, guys, but you’re the best option here.”

“Let’s do this,” Hondo says, leading the team to Black Betty.

Luca pulls out as soon as everyone is in. Hondo and Deacon remove their phones to check for messages from you.

“Anything?” Hondo asks, looking up from his empty phone.

Deacon shakes his head before raising his phone to his ear. His leg bounces until he lowers his hand and shakes his head at Hondo again.

“She has me on emergency bypass, if she could answer, she would have,” he explains. “And her location sharing isn’t loading.”

“Then let’s go get her and everyone else out safe,” Luca announces, taking a sharp turn.

✯✯✯✯✯

You flinch as Deacon’s ringtone dies out, the sound of glass crunching under a boot drowning it out.

“Who is supposed to be in here with you?” the shooter demands.

“No one. It’s my grading period,” you explain, trying to remain calm. “That’s why my ringer is on, because I don’t have students until after the next bell.”

The shooter nods, the gun bouncing erratically in his grip.

“Look, we can all walk away from this, but not until you stop,” you add.

The gun straightens, and you force your eyes to stay open.

✯✯✯✯✯

Deacon taps Hondo’s shoulder after he feels Street’s hand on his shoulder. They enter through the gym, giving students quiet directions to safety.

“Do you know where the shooter is?” Hondo asks quietly.

“He went that way,” a young girl answers, pointing as she runs.

“Let’s split off. Luca, Tan, go east. Street, Chris, west. Deac, we’re going for the shooter,” Hondo directs.

Deacon falls into step beside him, moving slowly and clearing classrooms as they go.

“Her room is down here, right?” Hondo whispers.

Deacon nods and then slows when they hear a gunshot. Moving faster, they reach the end of the hall: your class on the right and a large glass wall on the left.

“It doesn’t end well, it’s too late!” a man’s voice yells in your classroom.

Deacon’s eyes widen as he watches the door, praying you’re not in there, that you're somewhere safe.

“It’s not,” your voice replies calmly.

Deacon sighs, a minuscule amount of tension escaping when he hears your voice. That’s a good sign for now. Hondo slides his back against the wall, peeking into the glass on the window. He lowers quickly and looks at Deacon.

“His back is to us, and he has a gun on her, we have to think this through, Deac,” he says.

“Of course. We can’t storm in, he’s a loose cannon,” Deacon agrees.

They hear the gunshot before the door rattles, and Deacon lurches forward, reaching for the doorknob as his other hand moves toward the trigger. Hondo’s arm wraps around his shoulders, pulling him backward.

“Deac, man, calm down,” Hondo grunts, struggling against Deacon. “Charging in won’t help her any.”

“And if it’s too late?” Deacon whispers harshly, relaxing enough to pull his arms from Hondo’s grip.

“Why did you do that?” you ask inside.

Hondo pats Deacon’s back, creeping back to the door. They listen to footsteps as someone, presumably the shooter, paces in the classroom. Your voice is low as you try to calm him down. Deacon has never loved you more, but he’s never been this scared before. He has less than a split second if something goes wrong, and that’s not enough time to save anyone.

“Of course,” you answer. “See if you can find the tree.”

Deacon nods at Hondo and reaches for the doorknob.

✯✯✯✯✯

“What is that?” the shooter whispers, pointing to a display on your bulletin board.

“It’s a collection of the best projects this semester. Do you think yours may be up there?” you ask quietly.

“Can I look?”

“Of course. See if you can find the tree.”

You saw the corner of the SWAT helmet in the window before, and you hope Deacon is out there. Using the code word was pointless if he isn’t, but maybe the shooter will be distracted either way. The doorknob twists and you drop to your knees behind your desk before the door opens forcefully, banging against the wall behind it.

“LAPD SWAT, drop your weapon!” Hondo yells.

“You don’t want to kill anyone, including yourself, we know that. So drop the gun and we can get you help,” Deacon adds.

You close your eyes as Deacon talks, trying to imagine that you’re alone in the room and neither of you is in danger.

“Okay, okay,” the shooter repeats.

You hear something hit the floor, and then Hondo says something into his radio as he steps toward the shooter. Deacon’s arms wrap around you, but you keep your eyes closed as you turn in his arms, pressing your face into the plate protecting his chest. His hand rubs your back as the other cradles your head against him.

“You’re okay, it’s okay, we’re all safe, baby,” he whispers into your hair, his helmet discarded.

“There’s kids in the closet,” you say against him, tightening your arms around his waist.

His head lifts from beside yours as he tells Street to check the closet. You hear their muted gasps and stifled screams before they realize who’s opening the door.

“Are you okay?” Deacon asks.

You lean back just enough to look up at him. Nodding, you keep your arms around him as you look into his eyes.

“And you said I didn’t need to worry about you,” he says playfully, pushing your hair out of your face.

“Now you know how I feel all the time,” you reply.

He helps you to your feet, keeping a hand on you. Your students are out of the closet, and when one sees you, they all look up.

“You’re dating a narc?” someone asks.

“SWAT, actually,” Deacon replies, smiling easily. “Everyone alright?” He gets mixed nods and muttered yeses before he adds, “EMTs are outside to give you a quick check before you go home to your parents.”

The same student who wanted to know who texts you throughout the day pauses by your side to whisper, “He’s cute. Good job.”

You roll your eyes and hug her quickly before tucking yourself into Deacon's side.

“Nice work with the code word,” Hondo says, moving to stand beside Deacon. “You might’ve saved some lives today.”

“That was all Deacon,” you reply.

“No, no, I was going to charge in here and get everyone killed,” he admits. “I was worried and Hondo made me wait. How’d you get him to turn his back?”

“He wanted to see the display,” you explain, pointing to it. “Figured I could at least kill some time telling him to look for something that wasn’t there.”

 “How’d you know we were out there?”

“I didn’t know who was out there, but I saw the edge of a helmet in the window.”

“Oh, that was me. Which makes me the savior, no?” Hondo teases.

“I think she’s still the savior,” Deacon replies, tipping his head toward you.

“But you saved me, so what’s that make you?” you reply.

Deacon smiles as he loops his arm around you again.

“Get out of here,” Hondo grumbles.

✯✯✯✯✯

You spend the evening wrapped in Deacon’s arms. And his shirt that you stole.

“It’s okay to not be okay after something like that,” Deacon whispers, holding you against his chest as a forgotten movie plays in the background.

“I’ll be okay,” you promise. “All I could think about was you. I was texting you when he came in, and then you called right before he crushed my phone. Then you saved me.”

“What did your text say?”

“Not much. All I got was ‘I love you. There’s’ before the door opened and I stopped,” you answer, tracing shapes on Deacon’s chest.

“You started with I love you,” Deacon muses, shaking his head. “I love you so much.”

“I love you. Thanks for saving me.”

“Anytime.”

You lay down on his chest and kiss his jaw, glad to be alive, home with Deacon, and in his arms.

“That wasn’t an invitation to get into trouble on a regular basis,” Deacon adds. “Just for the record.”

Deacon feels you laugh against him, your chest shaking against him as another kiss lands on his jaw. He doesn’t know how you deal with the uncertainty and the worry every day, but he knows he would do it a million times over for you.

[im-normal-about-everything]

Content warning: violence, gun violence, death

Look out for yourself and enjoy <3

Ponyboy Micheal Curtis was eleven years old when he first picked up a cigarette. Most of the gang smoked, so no one really cared besides his parents. His dad wouldn't let him smoke in the house, but would buy him a pack of kools when he asked and his mom just shook her head but didn't say anything about it.

Ponyboy was twelve when his brothers first let him fight in a rumble. Some soc had pissed off Dally and they'd gotten into it, but they just kept fighting. It got so bad that a rumble was called. Pony was easily the youngest one there, Curly Shepard being the closest to his age. He tagged up on a pretty big soc with Johnny and took him down together. Pony wasn't hurt too badly, at least in his opinion, his brothers didn't seem to think the same.

Ponyboy was thirteen when he found out that his parents weren't coming home. His oldest brother had signed him out of science class, which was nice because he hated science, and took him home. Darry didn't say anything on the ride home, he just drove with a kind of gleam in his eyes and a sad, far away look. When they got home, he found Soda sitting on the couch, looking upset but not really sad. That changed when Darry explained that their parents were killed in a car crash, and Soda broke. Pony did too, and he's pretty sure that Darry was crying as well.

Ponyboy was fourteen when his brother hit him. His family never hit, it just wasn't something that they did. He always thought that Darry hated him, but he wasn't happy that his fears were finally confirmed.

Ponyboy was fourteen when his best friend killed someone for him. The socs were drowning him in the fountain and he was sure that he was gonna die there. He went unconscious and the next thing he knew, his kicked-puppy of a friend, Johnny Cade, had killed a boy to save him.

Ponyboy was fourteen when he and Johnny ran away. They stayed in an old church for a week before they talked to anyone else besides each other. His hair was cut and blonde, it reminded him of Dally's, but he didn't like that so he tried not to think about it.

Ponyboy was fourteen when he ran into the church that was on fire. He didn't know why he did it, not really, but it's probably because he was responsible for the fire. He had to get those kids out, even if he didn't know them and he might get hurt. He had to get them out, apparently, Johnny agreed.

Ponyboy was fourteen when he woke up in an ambulance with an unknown man. The man explained that Dally didn't knock him out for fun, he was on fire and Dally saved him. He also explained that Johnny was in real bad condition and might not make it.

Ponyboy was fourteen when he fought in a rumble caused by him. Well, he didn't call the rumble, but the point still stands. He fought hard, but so did the socs. He got knocked down and stepped on by Tim Shepard, but it was fine because he was fine. Everything was fine.

Ponyboy was fourteen when Dally took him to the hospital. They went to Johnny's room to tell him about the rumble but he didn't look so good. Johnny said it was useless and Dally looked real upset over that, but told Johnny that he was proud of him.

Ponyboy was fourteen when Johnny whispered his last words. He told Pony to stay gold. He didn't know if he could.

Ponyboy was fourteen when he explained what happened to the gang. He told them that Johnny was dead and that Dally couldn't take it. He was gonna blow up, more than he did in the hospital room already

Ponyboy was fourteen when Darry got a call from Dally. Dally robbed a store and the police were after him. The gang ran to the park just in time to hear the shots of police guns. Dally hit the ground and died.

Ponyboy was fourteen when he woke up in his bed, Darry by his side. He had been sick. He was sick because he didn't have enough to eat on the run. Johnny was probably sick too. No. Johnny couldn't be sick. Johnny was dead. But he wasn't, right? No, Ponyboy killed Bob and Johnny was still alive. He just wasn't here.

Ponyboy was fourteen when he went to court. Cherry and Randy defended him and Johnny. Johnny, who was dead and there was nothing he could do about it. The court asked him some questions about home and then decided to let him stay with Darry.

Ponyboy was fourteen when he learned that Soda hated when he and Darry fought. He didn't mean to make his brother feel like that, and he promised to never do it again.

Ponyboy was fourteen when the socs wouldn't leave him alone. They'd follow him and hit him and break his stuff. There wasn't much he could do to stop it.

Pony was fourteen when a soc brought a heater to track. He'd been at track practice with the other guys. He was one of the last to change and leave the locker room. When he left the room, he was dragged behind the school by a soc that was pretty good friends with Bob.

Ponyboy was fourteen when a soc shot him in the head in the back of the school. He fought, but there was nothing he could do. He just hoped a teacher or someone else found him instead of a member of the gang.

Ponyboy Micheal Curtis was fourteen, and he'll never get to be any older because life wasn't fair. Life never dealt him the right cards and he never got to win.

Ponyboy Micheal Curtis didn't die as a hero or as a hoodlum, he died as a message and a warning.